The Past Bites!
by StumpyTPDimples
Summary: When the past of a hero comes back with fight, a difficult decision must be made; stay with the team and risk dooming them, or leave and have a chance of saving them?
1. Chapter 1

NEW STORY!

Thank you to ComicBookHappySquared for the request. Looking forward to this one :) First full Natasha story for me, so, be kind my dears!

Disclaimer! Ah, my old friend, how are you? Missed ya! I disclaim everything, even the idea for this!

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'If he whistles that damn song one more time..'

'Oh, come on Stark! You know how much you love One Direction!'

'How do you even know about them, Barton!?'

"He has a daughter; if he didn't know about them then I'd be worried!" She chimed in with a slight laugh over the comms. It was always like this, those two arguing, but it made missions a little easier!

'Kate is not my daughter! And she kills me for whistling it too!'

"Whatever, Hawkdude!"

'Bite me, Widow!'

'Now now, kids. Play nice.'

'You're right, Cap! How about a bit of Star Spangled Man!?'

'Barton..' Steve actually growled! That's new!

'Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America!?~'

She had to laugh, despite the whole situation, as Clint ignored Steve's warning voice completely.

She didn't know when this happened, when this easiness fell amongst the group and they could actually risk missions by just joking through the comms. But lately Avenger's missions just seemed to roll like this, no seriousness, just a set mission plan and everyone gets on with it. It was comfortable, it was relaxed, it was what Natasha Romanoff loved.

This was just another day in the office as far as they were concerned! Sceptre was retrieved, everything should be doing just fine, they fended off a robot army with little problems, but the fact still remained; Hydra remained. Thor, being the noble Asgardian Prince he is, stayed around to help the team rid the world of this faction once and for all.

Easier said than done.

Somehow, when they took out one base, they'd learn about three or four others from Fury that needed tending to. They could do this sort of thing in their sleep at this stage. All the bases were designed bad; they all held the exact same layout with the exact same purpose to each section and room. Eventually she guessed it was so if one idiot was transferred from another base, he wouldn't have to be shown around and babied until he knew the way to everything. It made their lives easier, sure. But it made the Avengers life much much simpler!

'Status reports before I send my shield up Barton's ass.'

'Zone 3 cleared.' Thor boomed over first. He never really joked around like the others. He did while relaxing, but on a mission, he was always set in his way of getting the job done before fun and games could be had.

'Zone 1 nearly. Had to stop off to help out lovely personal singer get out of a little tricky situation.' Tony next, followed by a scoff from Barton.

'You just flew by and hit me in the back of the head! How was that helping me!?'

'Helping the team as a whole! Shut you up for a while!'

'Whatever, tin head. Zone 2 is a main hallway, clearing it as the bastards arrive.' Clint may have been a messer, but when he had to his mission mode could switch in easily, like when giving reports.

"Nearly there." Natasha commented last, casually talking to her team through the comms as she took down some guards in her area. She had only arrived, being given the furthest zone because she wanted a bit of a challenge today and the furthest always had the most goons!

She slid past three men as they aim their weapons, rising slightly in her trademark pose before using her bites to send electric pulses through the men and render them unconscious. Her senses told here there was someone advancing from behind, trying to get the drop on her. She closed her eyes and listened, waiting for the footsteps to be close before spinning a leg behind her to take the guard off his feet. Once a solid thwack let her know that he was on his back, she jumped up and walked over above him, grabbing her gun from her holster then to send a single bullet into his shoulder. Not to kill, enough to knock him out. Clint wouldn't be impressed if she killed someone, even Hydra. Besides, they were under strict orders to capture and interrogate.

'Tick tock.'

"Oh fuck you, Clint." Natasha laughed, shaking her head a little before continuing down the hallway. A trail of about 50 guards lay in the hallway behind her. "Zone 5 cleared."

'Good. Main room is yours and Hawk's then. We'll get through this cleaned up and meet you at the jet.'

'Roger that, Cap! On my way to you, Nat.'

"Can't wait." Natasha replied as she started jogging her way to the main room of the base, her tone just dripping with sarcasm. Herself and Clint were the closest to it, and honestly she was convinced Steve trusted them more than the others recently. She glanced up when an arrow was thrown her way, not fired so it just bounced harmlessly off her head.

She grinned when she saw her partner wink at her from the rafters on the upper level and pick up pace.

 _Game on, Barton._

She picked up her pace along with him, easily weaving her way through the twist and turns of the base to make her way to the main corridor and room. The heads of the base were always held up there during attacks. Varied in amount, sometimes it was one, one time there were nine of them all sitting in the room sipping on some scotch. It always annoyed her how casually they took their attacks and how willing they were to send the ones who worked for them to their deaths without batting an eyelash.

'Natasha Romanoff, are you smiling down there?'

"Enjoying this base more than the others." She laughed, glancing up to see Clint a little behind her.

She skidded to a stop a bit away from the main door. Sure, it was a bit of fun and games when they had a chance to play around, but they couldn't really make too much sound near the door and alert them to an attack. Half a second later, Clint dropped from the upper levels and landed soundlessly beside her. Years of training on his part made it so he could move like a ghost, even leaping from nearly ten feet above.

"What do you think?" He whispered once the pair hunkered down. He had an arrow gently nocked, ready to pull back at the slightest hint of an enemy attack.

"It'll be locked." She said carefully, watching the door to the main room with slightly slitted eyes. It was dark down here, meaning that guards had definitely abandoned their post here. "If we try pick it without our actual tools then they'll know and run. If we kick it down, they'll attack. So.."

"Flashbang?" Clint asked with such a happy voice it almost made Natasha laugh. He was hell bent on getting to use those since Stark installed them on an arrow head for him!

"I was just suggesting we get ready for an attack and kick it down. Flashbang will take too long to clear for us to get in there."

"You're no fun." She looked to him at his disappointed words and let out a chuckle at his pout.

"Come on, Hawkguy." She pushed his arm gently, standing then. "Lets finish this so I can go have a bath."

"Old bones getting to you, Romanoff?" Clint smirked. She just shook her head with a smirk of her own.

"Don't get started on old bones, Barton. I'm sure I can pull out a million more jokes than you can." She winked at his shocked expression before checking to make sure her gun was in order. One last bullet check and she was moving, quickly and silently making her way over towards the door.

She kept herself flush against one side of the wooden entrance, Clint on the other side a half second later. She listened, waiting to hear if anyone inside had noticed that the worlds most deadly duo were waiting outside for them.

Not a peep. Just a soft laugh from a group as someone told a joke. She smirked a little at Clint who was nocking his arrow once more. Silently, he mouthed the words 'Three, Two, One.' for the pair to be ready. On one, he sprang into action, instantly moving from the cover of the wall to kick in the door.

It popped open, the handle and lock completely breaking under the force of his boot, and she was right beside him to be ready for an attack. 9 guards met them, all having weapons raised, but all were way too idiotic to know to fire without prejudice when someone just busts into your bosses hide away!

She took down 4 with the bullets of her gun, he took down 4 with his arrows, and as the last one was cowering in fear and trying to figure out which one to shoot first; the duo glared at eachother.

"You can't beat me again!" Clint complained, pulling the bow string back that little bit further to almost enforce the point that he was the one who was going to take the shot. They both smirked at the whimper from the man. "He's my kill!"

"Oh please." She scoffed, finger ghosting on the trigger. "We both know a bullet's faster than an arrow!"

"Well count of three we fire and see then, Widow!"

She looked back with an eyebrow raised when she heard a 'Thump', the poor kid passing out from fright and just collapsing to the ground.

"Huh." Clint huffed from beside her, releasing the tension in his bow with a confused face before taking a step towards him. "I think that's the first time that's happened."

"Maybe for you." She smirked, shoving his shoulder gently as she advanced on the last door, the one leading to the main office. Whoever was behind there would be the one in charge of the whole place so they needed to be taken for nice and civil interrogation! Led by the best pair in the business! "Pretty sure you nearly passed out when we first met."

"That's because you shot me." He pouted, nocking another arrow when they got close to the door. There was no alarm raised, no boss man running out behind a wall of guards, so she took a guess at the fact they thought those bullet shots were their hired thugs finishing the job.

She sighed as she was about to kick in the door, the sound of numerous boots approaching their location through the hall catching her attention. She looked to Clint with a frown.

"Well, you wanted to take out more than me.." She started softly, and even though he looked surprised that there were more guards he still shot her a grin and a nod.

"You have two minutes, Romanoff." He winked and was gone before she could reply, standing guard at the door they just busted in. She could hear the whoosh of arrows leaving bow as she turned back to the door she was interested in.

Without a moments hesitation, she kicked it in, revealing a large office with three men inside. It was an old room, book shelves lining the walls and a large desk at the back infront of a window. Two men were facing away from her when she initially kicked in the door, sitting in two chairs infront of the desk while the third sat in one behind it.

They must have been having a grand old time while sending their men to their certain doom, because on the desk infront of each was a glass of some alcohol which Natasha would bet is scotch and some lit cigars.

They looked to her with eyebrow raised. This obviously wasn't in their game plan! The two infront of the desk didn't even stand, even with gun trained their way, though the one behind did and he scowled at her.

"That was a mahogany door, young lady!" He growled, hands bracing on the desk. He sounded French. She was usually good at telling where people are from based on their voice, and he had a thick curl to his voice like someone who had to learn English from French later in life would. "You know how much something like that costs?"

"Doesn't matter." She shrugged as she stepped inside the door a little more. The man on the left seemed to tense at her words, but she was focused on who she assumed was the main man in the room. "As soon as we get you three out of here the place will be blown sky high anyway."

"Bet your ass it will!" Barton called in at her words, causing a smirk she was trying to hold back to break out. He was an idiot sometimes. "I can't wait to - Fuck off will you I'm trying to talk! - push the charge button!"

He sounded closer. She guessed he had moved to start firing from closer to the door she was by but she didn't dare look away from the men to check. They may be idiots, but they were Hydra, and she couldn't take them too lightly.

"And who's 'we'?" The guy asked with an eyebrow raised. Natasha had to catch the laugh that was trying to come out. Clint was no doubt about to complain about how they're never recognised and how they're Avengers too and probably send an arrow through his head for not knowing the great Hawkeye!

"The infamous Black Widow." She froze at the voice. It takes alot to make Natasha freeze, to cause such a reaction from her, to cause every nerve in her body to stand on end and make her wish that she was anywhere else but there in the moment. "You remember our little program, right, Delacroix?"

She slowly looked to the owner of the gruff voice, and her heart sank at the smirk that greeted her. She had seen it too much before, too many nights as a child, too many nights now during those nightmares with girls screaming and gun shots firing. It made bile rise to the back of her throat.

"Oh. I do." Delacroix said with a sly grin. He nodded to the other man, the man sitting on Natasha's right - his left - and he stood to go around to the French man. He was yet to speak, but Natasha didn't care. She was too busy staring into the eyes of the man who haunted some of her nights. "We'll leave her to you then, Volkov."

Bogdan Volkov. He was never a high ranking member of the Red Room. He never trained the girls nor did he recruit them. But for the later years, just before they'd graduate and go out to the big bad world alone, he was their supervisor. He would command the bunk rooms with worse than an iron fist - more like a titanium diamond dust covered fist. Unyielding, unforgiving, and completely unreasonable. He would torture them just for the hell of it, things that she isn't comfortable thinking about now, things that even they weren't taught about in training.

For her to say, after so many years with the KGB and with SHIELD, that he dished out the worst torture she's ever received should be considered a compliment by him.

"Well that's a gun." Clint muttered from behind her, snapping her from her thoughts completely. Sure enough Delacroix and the third man were currently making their way out the window while Volkov had stood and was aiming a pistol straight at her. "Waste those guys please! Currently fighting a small army!"

"You're supposed to be dead.." She breathed out. During her trance, her weapon had lowered slightly. She was no longer a threat. She was now a scared teenager infront of her supervisor.

He was supposed to be dead. They raided that god forsaken place a year or two after she joined SHIELD. She was sure she saw his name on the confirmed killed list, the list compiled of whatever remains were left after they blew the place sky high. He was confirmed dead. She made sure of it.

"My little Natalia, siding with the Americans." He tutted, like a disappointed father. He had aged. He no longer had sharp black hair tied back. It was now cropped - dare she say balding - grey-near-white. The beard was gone, that prominent feature that made his smirk more menacing. He was clean shaven, his still strong build in a suit that just looked wrong on him. It was him though. She had no doubt. Maybe she might have thought the names were coincidental, after all she had only heard his second name and there were millions of those around the world, but the eyes and the smirk gave it away in an instant. "I heard the rumours, but I did hope it wasn't true. You had such promise."

"What are you waiting for?" Barton barked from behind her. The sound of firing arrows was lessening, and he sounded a lot closer now, so she guessed the numbers on his side were dwindling. The other two men had made it out the window and were watching through it with smirks. "Waste the bastard!"

"Oh he's crude." Volkov frowned. The disappointment in his voice made his accent that little bit more prominent.

"Oh fuck off." Barton growled. Natasha turned to look at her partner with wide eyes, and he was just smirking out the door at the soldiers still piling in. "Dunno who you are, dude. But you're lucky to be alive right now!"

He was going to get them killed!

She snapped her attention back to the man who had a weapon trained on her, his booming laugh filling the room. She visibly shuddered.

"I'm sorry." She stammered, shaking her head quickly. She could just feel Clint staring at her. "He didn't mean that, sir."

"No, no! I like him!" He laughed. The gun cocked and his finger positioned itself. Her arms remained unmoving. "I'll kill him last!"

"Natasha! Fire the damn weapon!" Clint shouted. It worked, she snapped out of her past, snapped out of seeing him as her handler and saw him as the sick criminal he is. It worked but her arm raised a little too late.

She screwed her eyes shut at the sound of the gun shot, but no pain came. She hated being shot, easily one of the worst pains she's ever experienced. Instead, she was roughly pushed to the ground, her own weapon clattering helplessly away as she fell onto her hip. A curse-half-scream followed, and she snapped her eyes open at the familiar voice.

Clint was on the ground, gasping for breath as a red spot formed on the right of his chest. His hand was desperately clutching at it as he lay on his back, more than likely uncomfortable on his quiver, but his eyes were screwed shut and she was scared he was going to pass out. He took the bullet for her.

She was weak and he saved her ass again.

"Shit." She muttered under her breath, quickly scrambling to his side then to tend to his wound. She started taking his vest off to get to the entry wound. "Stay with me, Clint. Eyes open."

"Tash.." The nickname her best friend used so many times in the past repeated itself over and over again, like a whispered prayer falling from his lips. She had her hands pressed to the wound, calling in emergency to the others to get him out quickly.

"Tash.." She froze at the name that time, a different voice speaking it, rolling it over as if tasting the term of endearment and finding it disgusting. She reluctantly looked up to see Volkov with one foot out the window, a scary smirk playing on his features as he watched her. "Seems you've gained a weakness, мой вдова. I look forward to using that. I look forward to meeting your team."

He was gone just as Clint let out a wet cough, so her attention was taken away from the direction he ran. The guards weren't coming in, they must have left when they knew their leaders were safe.

 _Seems you've gained a weakness.._

"We need evac. Clint's down. I repeat, Clint is down."

 _I look forward to meeting your team._

This wasn't going to end well.


	2. Chapter 2

Onto the next! :) Thanks for the love, hope this was worth the wait!

REVIEWERS;

CottonCandy; I'm glad you liked it my dear and thank you for the review :) Hope you like this one!

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DISCLAIMED! THAT'S MY DISCLAIMER TO EVERYTHING!

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He's had worse. Natasha has to keep telling herself that, has to keep reminding herself that infact her best friend has had a hell of a lot worse happen to him in his life, some of which has been by her hand. She has to keep telling her that so the guilt will go away and she'll be left in peace.

He's had worse.

Still though - as she glanced from the road to the form sitting next to her, arms in a sling to avoid moving the bullet hole in his chest too much, she can't help stop the pangs of guilt that race through her.

How had she been so stupid? Assuming someone like Volkov was dead was a rookie mistake and one she just knew she wouldn't make twice. He had to be taken out, for the sake of her mental health the world had to be rid of him once and for all.

"Are you sure you should be checking out?" She finally asked, trying to ease the tension that had settled between the long time partners. There was never this between them and she just knew it was because he had a million and one things he wanted to say but wouldn't.

"I'm fine." He said quietly. He kept his attention out the passenger side window for the entire drive so far, that didn't change now.

She was just bringing him back to his apartment. She refused to let him get a taxi home and definitely wouldn't let him walk one armed through the streets even if she did know that no handed he could kill anyone who dared look at him the wrong way. Besides, the rain was falling in heavy sheets now and that wouldn't be good for him.

"You just had surgery yesterday." She laughed softly. No laugh from Barton though.

"I'm fine."

"We gonna talk about your pissy mood?" She frowned. It might have came out more annoyed than she intended, but she couldn't help it. He was being an ass just for the sake of being an ass and there was no way she could smile through that!

"We gonna talk about yours?" He spat back. His head finally turned to look at her, but she just kept her eyes locked on the road ahead of them. They were near his apartment, she could easily ignore him until then.

So she didn't reply.

How was she to tell him about this sort of stuff? He knew of her past, the bare minimal details at least. But this was different. This guy was one of the reasons the Red Room haunted her so, one of the reason trusting people today was so difficult for her. He's the reason why she has nightmares, why she can't stand the thought of forming emotional attachments. He fucked over so many girls and she just couldn't talk to Clint about it. Clint got protective, got vengeful, got this fire in his eyes whenever Natasha would talk about even the kind of alright Red Room supervisors. She didn't want the pity that this one would bring, didn't deserve the pity it would bring.

So she didn't speak. Didn't tell him. And he sighed when three minutes and 17 seconds passed in her mind.

"Just let me out here.." He said quietly, defeated, the tone he'd use when he was sick of a mission. She heard the click of his seatbelt and that cause her to instantly lock the car so he wouldn't get out.

"This is unlawful detention, Ms. Romanoff." The old teasing quality to his voice was slipping back in. She just shrugged and pulled up beside his apartment.

"I'm making sure you get up there and have some food for the next few days." She said matter of factly before stepping out of the car. He followed, doing some weird little skip run into his building to get out of the rain. He didn't even have proper clothes on him, just the hospital gown since he checked himself out before any of them could even come to him with some clothes. She got a call from the medical staff saying he left and found him wandering down the street about ten minutes later.

Grabbing the grocery bags from the trunk of the car, she made her way a little more calmly than her partner to his apartment. The door was left open for her once she made it up the stairs, and she walked in on him struggling to pull a t-shirt over his head.

She didn't help, knowing he'd refuse it, and instead went through his mess of an apartment to put away the groceries into the kitchen cabinets.

"You didn't have to do this." Clint commented from the sitting area, though he didn't make any move from his sofa to help her. "I'm sure there was food here."

"About a month out of date." She shrugged. She packed the last bag away then moved for the door. "Don't forget to take your meds."

"Tash wait." He called after her, and though she was facing the door the shift from the area told her that he stood. He didn't move though, didn't advance. "Talk to me."

"I thought I was." She quipped back, opening the door then to leave. A half a second later his hand slammed it shut and she turned to glare at him but met a glare sent her own way.

"I took a bullet for you, Romanoff." He growled. Like she needed reminding of that. "I deserve to know why."

She stared him down. He was close, pinning her between himself and the door. Her instincts were telling her to take him down for being so bold but she didn't have it in her. It had been a tough few days and her fight was all but gone. Well, nearly. She'd still give it her best shot!

"You deserve nothing, Barton." She spat back after realising he wasn't going to back down. With a swipe of her arm, she knocked his hand away from the door and had it open a half second later.

"He called you 'My Widow'.." He said under his breath, so quietly that had she have been another step out the door she wouldn't have heard it. It caused her to take pause just outside his apartment. "Natasha.. No one calls you that.. Who was he?"

She sighed to herself and ran a hand over her face, frowning when she noticed it was shaking. There was no getting out of this, he wouldn't drop it now that he knew something was up, and there was no point in not telling him, right?

"Just.." She started, not looking at him, not moving from her spot in the hallway. "He's an old friend."

"Friend huh?" He asked carefully, picking up the venom in her tone. She nodded. "Red Room?"

He was always pretty direct with these things. Sometimes she liked it, other times like now she really hated it.

"Old handler." She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she finally turned to look at him. "Thought the bastard dead. Seems like he's out for me now though."

"What makes you say that?" He asked with an eyebrow raised. "He didn't kill you when he had the chance."

"He won't." She shook her head. He never asked the personal details just like she never asked his. An unspoken rule after all these years, no matter how much one another wants to know. "He'll make me suffer first. I don't know how, I don't know when. But if I'm his target, he'll use every weakness.."

She cut herself off, eyes going slightly wide as she thought about that. He would use every single weakness against her. That's what the Red Room did, they were trained to pin point a person's weakness and take them out that way, get them off their game so they're easy to kill in the end.

 _Seems you've gained a weakness._

Those words rang loud in her head and it had her stomach dropping.

"Nat?" Clint asked carefully, and she saw worry held in his eyes when she glanced at him. Dammit, Volkov thought he was her weakness..

"Just stay here, ok?" She said quietly. "Don't leave the apartment for a while, keep an arm on you at all times, do not open the door unless I message you 439 first, got it?."

"439.." He frowned, stepping closer to her, wearily. She shook her head to stop him though. The had alot of codes, words were way too easily intercepted. 439 simply meant that all was safe to resurface. "Natasha, what's going on?"

"Trust me." She said firmly, turning to leave then. "I need to talk to Tony then I'll be back to you!"

She didn't wait for an answer, ignored his calls to come back and talk to him. She took off in a sprint and made it out of the apartment building in no time, in her car a moment later.

She needed some help. She hated to admit it, but she needed help. She'd take the bastard out herself, don't misunderstand. But she needed Tony to take everyone to his place, take Clint there.

She started the ignition and started to pull off towards the tower.

If everyone's there, sure, it makes Clint an easy target - one place for a while made things too predictable. But if Volkov is sending his men after Clint to get to her, then he's not safe anywhere, and if the Avengers are all together then they can fight together, and they'd have a better chance at saving him, and-

She didn't get to finish the thought.

The sound of an explosion just behind her had her slamming on the breaks. The force it generated nearly sent the car spinning.

Natasha didn't even need to look in the mirror to know where the blast had come form.

She was barely outside the main gates of the complex, so she abandoned her car and ran back towards the building.

Up near Clint's level - no, on Clint's level - there was a giant hole in the side of the building and flames were licking out from it, sending black smoke billowing into the afternoon sky.

"Clint!" She screamed out, running back into the building to make her way to his level. People were frantically running in the opposite direction - women carrying children, men trying to hurry them down as smoke began to fill the hallways. The higher she got, the worse it became. But the less people she saw. Clint had the pent house apartment, owning the building - well kind of.

Right now, she was thankful for that! It meant there weren't any civilians up this high to get hurt, meant she could focus solely on getting Clint out.

She ripped part of her sleeve off, now thankful for the pouring rain outside because it meant that the fabric was soaked through. She tied it off around her mouth and nose so she could breath through the heavy black smoke that engulfed her best friends level.

The door was gone, blown off somewhere or just burned up entirely, she couldn't tell. It looked worse outside than it was inside. Sure there were a lot of flames, and she was struggling to fight her way into the apartment to search for Clint, but the majority of them were small and the large ones were gathered around the hole in the side of the wall. She's seen the pattern before, it meant it was an external detonation and not an internal. The wind had shifted and was spraying the heavy rain into the place - another blessing she'd have to count!

She stayed low, trying to keep herself out of the black smoke that threatened to suffocate her. Once in the apartment, it wasn't long until she spotted Clint's unmoving form on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"Shit.." She muttered to herself, rushing over to his side and turning him on his back.

He was burned - really burned. Blisters were already beginning to form on nearly every inch of his exposed skin and his clothes were singed. His eyes were shut, but his chest was rising and falling quickly so she knew he was alive.

"Stay with me, you idiot." She growled as she carefully slung his arm around her shoulders. He was a dead weight, but it wouldn't be the first time she carried him out of a situation, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. She could hear the faint sound of sirens approaching as she pulled Clint to his feet and started out the door with him.

It wouldn't be enough to just keep him safe. She had to warn everyone what was coming so they could be ready to fight. Maybe if she warned Clint then he would have come with her. Dammit, if she just stayed with him then it wouldn't have happened! Volkov wouldn't have tried kill Natasha this early on in his sick little games!

She was met halfway by a fire-fighter - that's just how long it took her to try drag his dead weight down the stairwell through the thick smoke. The make shift cloth over her face was doing it's job alright, but just about. She waved off the fire-fighters offer to help her, and instead shouted at him to take Clint's other arm. The pair of them made it down the rest of the stairs a hell of alot quicker.

The rain was welcoming now. While earlier she really didn't want it, now it soothed her burning skin. She didn't suffer any burns, but being that close to flames and in thick boiling smoke left her skin itchy and red.

Outside was chaotic - police and fire vehicles cordoned off the area as residents were tended to, ambulances had begun pulling up to help tend to the wounded, and even as soon as they stepped one foot outside with a still unconscious Clint Barton a paramedic was right up to them with a gurney.

She let them take him, because what else could she do? He looked dead on the gurney, burned to a crisp as the cold rain droplets splattered against his skin. His sling was gone, what a thing to notice right? A million other things wrong with him and she notices the lack of a sling, not the charred flesh of his face, or the still smouldering clothes that threatened more burns, but rather she wondered why the idiot had taken off his sling.

She let out a sigh when he was put into the back of an ambulance, faintly seeing people work on him through the now closed doors. The sigh quickly turned to a cough, the smoke she inhaled becoming a little much. Someone was by her in an instant, and even though it was against her instincts she allowed them lead her over to another ambulance, not doubting that their soul intention was to help her out like they were her partner.

An oxygen mask was offered to her, a foil blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and the paramedic was gone again with a wave of her hand to tend to the others in the area who may have suffered worse than herself.

This was personal. She took long drags of her oxygen as she thought about that, trying to catch as much breath as she could in her damaged lungs. He was making this personal.

She watched the ambulance with Clint in it and frowned to herself. This was only the beginning, she knew that. He was going to make things so much worse for her, going to make things hell, just because he could.

She had to finish it before he continued. He started the battle, but dammit she'd end the war!

With that in mind, she jumped from the back of the ambulance and went to her car. She had people to see, had to talk to Tony, had to talk to old contacts, had to get as much information on what the asshole was up to these days so she could plan to take him out once and for all.

She raised an eyebrow when she reached her car. An envelope was nearly tucked under the windscreen wiper. It wasn't a parking ticket, no way a warden could be that quick and that heartless. Definitely wasn't a flyer, they're never put into envelopes.

Natasha glanced around for a moment before carefully taking the piece of soaked paper from it's position and slipping into the driver's seat with it. Taking one more glance around the area told her it was secure enough to open it up.

Her heart sank for another time that night.

Inside sat two polaroid photo's, both making her cover her mouth in shock.

The first was of Clint, obviously not long before the blast because he had the sling on and was standing in the kitchen of his apartment. Across his face was a red X and the words beneath read "Too easy. No fun."

The second showed Steve, in a setting she knew all too well. It was his usual gym, the one he went to each morning to throw some blows at the punch bag. He was just entering the building, bag slung over his leather jacketed shoulder and a smile on his face. A red circle marked his face, and the comment below made her frown. "He looks like fun. 24 hours. Game on."

She glanced at the clock on her radio and saw it was only 3pm, though now it felt much much later. Steve would have been long finished his workout and would be back at his apartment.

Natasha threw the photo's on the passenger side seat before starting up the engine, speeding her way through the streets and traffic to get to her team mate before anyone else could.

Volkov was getting to her by targeting her team. Not just Clint. No, he was planning to take them all out to get to her, planning to make her watch it aswell and know when it was going to happen. He was playing a sick and twisted game that she knew was her one weakness.

That he knew was her one weakness.

She had to get them somewhere safe, had to draw him out and end him once and for all, had to save her team.

She growled and hit her steering wheel a few times in frustration when she knew what all that together meant.

She had to go into hiding, had to go old school Black Widow, she had to detach herself from everyone and anyone to save everyone.

She had to leave New York.

Had to leave America.

Natasha had to leave the Avengers.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry it took so long! Those of you on Tumblr know why! Queue and myself made it pretty clear, me thinks!

Anyway, have the whole story written, just need time to edit and it'll be up!

Enjoy! :)

Reviewers!

Steph; Things might escalate quickly, yes :P I have a 10 chapter limit, and struggled to keep to it! But I think it's fine! Sling ain't important, just me having fun messing with what was going on in her head! Glad you liked it my dear :)

Smileyjunior; Sorry it took so long my dear! I hope this is worth the wait and hopefully the next few chapters will be up a little quicker :) Glad you're liking it and thank you for your message! It made my day!

CottonCandy; Glad you liked it! Sorry it took so long to update! Work kept me away! I hope this makes up for it :)

Disclaimer! Queue, you should take care of this for me! :D  
Queue: _"Don't bring me into this too! I just took care of your Tumblr for three weeks, don't you dare!"_  
Sorry Queue.. I own nothing!

* * *

"I think we need to talk about this.."

"That's the fifth time this hour you've said that, Steve.."

"Natasha."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The Captain's warning tone was on, that one that let her know that he wouldn't be too impressed if she lied to him or even tried to get out of whatever he wanted/needed done. Steve was a good friend, there was no way in hell she'd want to upset him, even if it was her own stupid upset that had her like that.

She shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair under his gaze, not meeting it though. She had to think this through as logically as she could manage.

Right now they were stuck in a horrible waiting area. The little source of water was a drinking tap that was leaking. The rhythmic tap of the drip hitting steel helped calm her in the first few hours, helped her get her mind straight and figure out what had to be done. They wouldn't let them in to see Clint. Steve was the only one here with her right now, mainly because Natasha just burst into his apartment and dragged him out without so much as another word. He was Volkov's next target so there was no way in hell that she was going to let him out of her sights!

She told him next to nothing. What was there to tell? Oh, yeah, my past came back in a big way and decided to blow Clint up. And yeah, they're going after you next! Yep, professional killers as skilled as if not more so than myself! Have fun with that!

That's just not something you spring on someone. Even if that someone is as cool and composed as the great Captain America.

"Y'know.." Steve sighed after a minute of silence. He was sitting across from her in the tiny room, using the vending machine to his left as something to prop himself against in his seat. "This whole trust thing we spoke about before? The friendship? That's give and take Romanoff."

"Well maybe I want to take when you want me to give, Rogers."

"Well then I'll give." Steve sounded odd, his voice a whisper. She glanced over to him to see his leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Give you what I know. You arrive in the pouring rain, drag me from my home, don't say a word, and to here where I learn Barton was nearly blown to the high heavens. You know something, you know everything I'm willing to bet, and yet you won't tell me."

"Comes with being a spy." She shrugged. She eyed him curiously though, because this Steve was one she hadn't seen in a long time. This was the worried Steve, the one who knew what the world was capable of and was afraid that it was coming for him or his friends. "Some things you don't need to know, Rogers."

"And this isn't one of them." He frowned, getting a little more serious with her now. "If someone is targeting my team, Romanoff, and I find out that you knew.."

"Well what difference would it make?" She shrugged once more before standing to go look out the window. The rain was still falling, it created little rivers that travelled down the pane of glass. "If we're targeted then we're targeted.. Telling you would make no difference."

"It would prepare us."

"He was blown up, Steve." She sighed, giving a shake of her head. "No amount of preparation would have saved him from that. No amount of knowledge, not amount of planning, nothing like that could stop a bomb and you know it."

"Ms. Romanoff?" She looked around at the new voice, seeing Steve stand from his seat aswell when he saw that it was an officer. Not an officer, no. He had the badge on his belt alright, obviously on show so he wouldn't get stopped through the hospital and asked a million questions. But he wasn't in uniform, instead in a sharp suit that was admittedly a little dampened from the rain outside. She nodded anyway, realising she didn't let the man know that she was infact the woman mentioned. "I'm detective Sanders, placed in charge of Mr. Barton's case."

She didn't answer. Was he expecting her to? The way he stood awkwardly in the doorway just watching her made Natasha think that he was. But she just stared him down, arms folded across her chest as she tried figure him out. Thin build, but bulky shoulders that were highlighted by the too small for him suit jacket. Full head of hair, young. That's what had her a little on edge. She's met young detectives before, but none of them would be put in charge of a case, especially one as high as an attempted murder of an Avenger.

"Do you mind if we speak in private?" The man asked carefully, earning an eyebrow raise from her. Something was up, something with Clint, that had to be it.

"She stays here." Steve said before she could even reply. A smirk escaped through her scowl, he was always the protective one when it came to her even though the deadly Black Widow could probably take out the great Captain America in no time!

He shifted under both of their gazes before a sigh escaped his lips and he nodded in defeat. Natasha sent Steve a slight smirk when he did. If it was some bad news, she'd much rather having Steve with her than being alone.

"We've closed the case." Sanders said softly, sending Natasha a slight smile as if it was a great thing. It was not.

Her eyes went a little wide and jaw a little slack at the news. She was never one to show emotion, but both possibilities of those four words had her in awe. It either meant they arrived at the completely wrong conclusion and those who did this to Clint wouldn't pay, or that they caught the bastards and it was already over.

When was life ever nice enough to give her the latter though?

"What happened?" Steve asked curiously.

"Gas line blew." The detective shrugged, confirming for Natasha that it was worse than them coming to the completely wrong conclusion. It was a completely implausible one. "We took a guess that it was leaking for a while and, when he went to light a fire, it blew the apartment sky high."

She knew it was wrong, she knew he was wrong, she knew that something was going on here for a number of reasons.

Steve seemed happy with the answer though, and as she moved towards the door she could actually hear a thank you leaving his lips as he shook the 'detective's' hand. Once she crossed the room from the window, she carefully and quietly shut the door and locked it from inside.

He was wrong, and he was wrong on purpose.

She helped Clint fix up that place when he bought the dump. She knew that building inside and out, and she helped Tony rip out all the pipe lines and turn off the gas source so the ones trying to get the building back off of Clint wouldn't be able to use it like this detective thought it was used. There were no gas lines anymore. Herself and Stark made sure of that. They used electric cookers in that building, wood fires, all generously donated by Tony when Clint was away on mission and worried about his tenants.

But even if she didn't know that, the way the wall was blown out told her it was an external detonation and not an internal one. It was something placed on his window or thrown at it, something that he wouldn't have noticed until the very last second when it was way too late.

He was lying. She didn't know if he knew that she'd know this, didn't know if he was just hoping she was too stupid to understand that it was bullshit and go along with it or if it was a little more sinister.

She had a feeling it was the latter though.

While he was distracted with Steve, she had a chance to strike and she took it. Nothing too fancy, nothing too dangerous - she just swept the man's legs from beneath him, sending him flying on to his back and landing with a painful thump.

"Natasha!" Steve nearly yelled in shock, just about to move to help the man up. But she beat him to it. Instead of helping him up though she kneeled down so her knee was pressed against his throat, effectively pinning him to the floor.

The sheer look of panic in his eyes told her he knew he was found out and there was no escaping her now.

"How much is he paying you?" She growled, leaning in nice and close to see if he was lying to her again.

He was working with Volkov. She had no doubt in her mind that he had paid some members of the force off to cover up his actions and this was just another dirty cop in the ranks.

He sent this kid here with the information, sent him with lies he knew she'd smell bullshit from. He sent the kid as a message, that there's no way he's getting caught for this, that there's no way Clint is getting justice, that the only help she has is herself in this matter.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me again." She growled a little more forcefully, cutting off his stammered words as she increased the pressure on his throat. "No gas in Clint's building. Myself and Mr. Stark saw to that because people would try blow him up. Where is he?"

"Who?" It was Steve's voice this time around. She had forgotten for a moment that he was there, but she didn't know if she could answer that question. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the pictures before throwing them at Steve's feet, her eyes never leaving those of the man on the ground.

"The guy who's after the team." She sighed. She could feel Steve tensing even without being too close to him, he always made a little huffy sound when surprised enough into a state of shock. "Where is he?"

She repeated the words a little more lowly, a little more menacingly, and she was damn close to the pressure that would crush his windpipe entirely and the whimper let her know he realised it too.

"I don't know!" He rasped out. She could swear he was close to tears! "I just get messages with missions! Usually cover jobs! I don't know where he is or even who he is! I'm sorry!"

She knew he was telling the truth. About all of it, not just one specific part. It was Volkov's style. Never be seen, never let yourself be known. Send others to do your dirty work, especially when said dirty work was annoying the Black Widow into going to find him.

Even though she hated dirty detectives, even though she wanted a case opened to get Clint's attackers found, she knew it wasn't going to happen. If she was going after Volkov then he had to think she believed his bullshit story, had to think that the yanks had changed her mindset so much that she didn't think to first and foremost look for the cause of attack and figure it out herself in a second. He had to think he was clear, that she was just waiting around for the next attack, and not that she was hunting the bastard down.

"Go back to him." She growled, releasing the pressure to instead stand next to Steve. He was still staring at the polaroids, the one of Clint in particular, his jaw set in a hard lock and his eyes holding a fire Natasha knew only came out when he was thinking of how he could have protected his friends. The guy on the ground sputtered a little before shakily getting to his feet. "Tell him I bought it. Tell him I seemed shaken, I wouldn't leave Clint's side and it doesn't look like I will for a while. You tell him all this, and that Steve is at the tower with just Tony. You got that?"

"If he finds out I'm lying.."

"It won't hurt half as much as what we'll do if you don't." Steve was the one who cut off the raspy voice, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the Captain's threat!

If pissing your pants had a facial equivalent, the poor dude would be the definition of it right now! He nodded his head quickly and literally ran from the room, after an enjoyable moment for Natasha when the guy couldn't figure out the lock of the damn thing.

"Natasha." Steve said quietly, a half minute after they were left alone in the room. Neither moved, neither looked away from the door, but both were definitely planning their next move.

"Get to Clint when you can." She said just as quietly, looking away from the closed door to the Captain. His eyes weren't on the door like she thought, but down cast at the picture of Clint in his clenched hand. "Keep an eye on him. Keep Tony with you with the suit at all times and go straight to the tower when he can be released."

"Why are you talking like you won't be here?" He said through a frown, his eyes meeting hers to just dare her to lie. She spent months with this man, working missions day in and day out, basically living with the guy. He had a good read on her now, though she hid it during missions, the times they'd have heart to hearts when things got a little too tough gave him enough knowledge to know her personal lies. She respected him too much to lie anyway.

"Because I won't be." She simply said, moving to leave the room then. He caught her arm though, and when she turned to look at him - expecting to see the hardened 'That's bullshit!' stare he was famous for - she saw soft and worried eyes with an accompanying frown etched on his face.

"We trust you, you know that right?" He said softly, and she recognised the voice. It was the one he held during all those late night talks, when she'd pour her guts out to him, after being blown up in that army bunker, when she just needed a friend and he was there.

"First mistake, Rogers." She replied with a slight smirk, trying to ease the tense atmosphere. He just smiled, so it worked. He released her arm and handed her back the photos.

"Just be careful. Whatever you're planning I'm sure it's reckless." He shrugged, turning then to go back to his seat. Looks like he'd follow her orders! "We're here if you need us. Just a call away."

Natasha smiled a little and nodded to herself, leaving the room without another word between the pair.

No more words were needed. They both knew what had to be done and that's all that mattered.

* * *

They were all going to kill her. That was probably a given! Last time herself and Clint went off to do something dangerous without the rest of them there was hell when they got back.

They had become a team, there was no two ways about it. She knew that. She knew that the Avengers weren't just people thrown together. They were there because they wanted to be, because they needed to be, because it's what the world needed.

But the world had to wait, because when the Avengers themselves needed saving, who was there to help? There was only the six of them, there was the little group that had managed to grow into a world wide ideal and she couldn't let that be destroyed just because of her past.

She was going to be killed. Either at the hands of Volkov or the hands of her pissed off team if she returned.

She sighed to herself and switched the autopilot of the jet on, leaning back in the seat then to watch the night sky roll by outside. She had a long journey ahead of her.

She had no idea where Volkov was. If he was still in America, gone home, or somewhere else entirely; she couldn't tell. But if he was working Hydra, if he was setting up Red Room operations again or just retiring and relaxing like the old man he was - she knew there was one sure fire place she could always get information.

Natasha paused for a moment over the call button on her phone, knowing that as soon as it connected there was no chance of her ignoring her past anymore. As soon as she got in contact with her old help, that was it. Her covers were blown, everything was out, and the Black Widow would be back to the hands she once knew as a comfort.

But she needed help to help her team, needed information, needed arms, needed everything. So she hit call and let the speaker project the dialling tone throughout the small jet.

She had to return to Russia, for the simple fact that's where she felt she'd be safest. Well, not her. But it's where she felt she had to go to keep the team safe. And that was the aim of this mission, to keep the team safe and take out the bastards who are after them.

It wasn't long before a familiar gruff voice filled the jet, and now she knew there was no turning back even if she wanted to try.

 _"Belov."_

"Belov, it's Romanova.." She said quietly, trusting that her old friend was smart enough to secure the line but you could never be too safe! He was good, but Volkov could be better. Speak English, Romanoff. Don't give any bugs the chance to catch onto Russian words too easily. "I need some help."

 _"Natalia.."_ She could almost hear the smile in his voice, and it made a scoff leave her. Always the sentimental one! _"Good to hear from you! When do we start?"_

She smirked to herself and sped up the aircraft. No questions, no queries, no wondering if it was dangerous or if it could get him killed. Just acceptance, and it made all her worries disappear for a moment.

This was going to be some bit of fun! Like old times!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4!

Sorry it took so long! Busy life time!

Reviewers:

CottonCandy; Sure wouldn't be fun if it wasn't an adventure! Hope you enjoy this one :)

DISCLAIMER; I OWN NOTHING! NADA! NIENTE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOTHING!

* * *

Over the years, she had forgotten just how beautiful her home country could be. It wasn't the extreme of a season, wasn't the height of summer nor the dead of Winter, though it was February so a light snow was still falling across the capitol city.

Natasha knew the dark secrets hiding behind the beauty though. It was always the same, no matter if she was talking about a city or a person or a flower in the Springtime. Nothing beautiful was perfect. People had egos and dark sides, flowers had thorns and poisons, and this place? This place that was covered in a soft fluffy blanket hid more sharp edges than anywhere else her career has ever taken her.

Maybe it's because she spent so much time working these streets, maybe it's because she worked for the lowest of the low in the city, but even the beautiful orange sky as the sun slowly set couldn't make her appreciate the place like the others around her were.

With a huff of a breath she pulled her coat closer around her body, slowly making her way down the empty street to avoid any attention that may be drawn towards her. Not that there should be much. Even the most hardiest of criminals wouldn't know she was around. She was an Avenger, and being one of the only two on the team who just popped up from obscurity she was highly known now. No one would think twice on her, no one would expect her to be here alone while the others were still fighting the good fight, no one would doubt that she was just another passer-by trying to make her way home from work.

She gave a slight smile to an old couple who passed her on the sidewalk, slightly side stepping so she stepped on the ice patch instead of them. She really didn't want the pair slipping on what looked like a nice evening stroll for them. So there might have been a soft spot remaining for the people, just not the place. So sue her!

She watched them walk away for a moment before turning down an alleyway to her left, pulling her hood down when in the sheltered area between the two buildings.

Her contact - Maxim Belov - is probably the only one left in this god forsaken place she can completely trust.

When finally free from the Red Room, and making a name for herself within different organisations, he was her partner. Not in the Clint Barton kind of way - put together because they were the best of the best and could only be stronger as a team. Nor the bound together by faith kind of way that seemed to be the case for her new team. They were partners because they had to be, because in the situation they were in you had to find someone you could trust and cling onto them for dear life, because at the end of the day, they would end up being the difference between life and death for you one day.

This area was familiar to her. Throughout the country - throughout the world actually - she had a number of safe houses. Not known to SHIELD nor any organisation, all hidden under aliases that only a handful of people would know. They were used if a mission went wrong, if herself and Clint needed to lay low for a few days, if he was hurt and she couldn't think of anywhere else to go, or to escape the life of the Avengers for a while. They were safe houses in every single sense of the word, and this was no different.

It was down an alley in the outskirts of Moscow, and down in the basement of the right hand side building. Not a pent house level of luxury, but it was a nice apartment for her nonetheless.

The ones around Russia were used by both herself and her contact. She knew that Maxim would have kept them in good shape, since he was still on the run but refused to leave Russia incase he could be of service. He had always come in handy when Natasha needed him, and this seemed no different.

After climbing down the metal staircase, she opened the door to the sound of a creak. It was colder inside than out, but she knew that there would be central heating in the little place that she could fire up in no time at all.

While they may have been her "I'm on the run and need somewhere to lay low for a while" places, she was always taught to look after herself and take pride in wherever she was staying. For that reason, it was actually a pretty nice set up she had.

It opened up into a large living area, albeit a little dusty and out of use, but beautiful none the less. A large fireplace sat on one wall with a sofa and two arm chairs positioned around it. Clearly it was originally meant for aesthetics, she wasn't even sure if there was a chimney to this place, but on more than one occasion she managed to get a fire working in the thing. The kitchen was small enough on the other side of the open plan area, and the hallway next to it led to three bedrooms and a nice enough bathroom complete with bath for those missions when she'd need a soak.

Since technically underground, the only light to the place came from the lights hanging from the ceiling, and she surprised herself by finding they were working just fine when she flicked the switch. High up there were little slivers of windows, but it was dark out right now so none of them let anymore than barely a little street light in.

Look after yourself, but look after those you bring home even more.

She sighed to herself and shook her head before throwing the little bag she brought full of clothes onto the table in the kitchen. She went to let the water run in the taps then, just to shake the cobwebs from the place.

She was 3 hours early to meet Maxim, and while he would probably arrive here in 2, she wanted to take a little time to relax and get her head around the task she was about to undertake.

It was a suicide mission. That's the conclusion she came to each and every time she thought about it. She might be able to kill Volkov, might be able to get rid of him, but after that she'll no doubt have to take on an entire Hydra/Red Room base all by herself. There was no way she was bringing Maxim back into fighting, after all! He got out of that business years ago, years before she was hunted by SHIELD. He got out and swore he'd never get back in, so she'd be damned if she'd be the one to drag his sorry ass back into things.

Without thinking of it, she was over on the sofa; head resting on one arm with her feet propped up on the opposite one. It was a long journey, so she'd be grateful for any little bit of rest she could get.

Natasha had just shut her eyes when the sound of a latch caught her attention. He shouldn't be this early, couldn't be this early. It wasn't like him to be anywhere any longer than he needed to be.

She had just slid off the sofa and had her glock in hand when a familiar gruff voice made her smile.

"Don't put a hole in me, don't put a hole in me!"

She gave a slight laugh at the greeting, shaking her head a little as she stood from her crouched position.

"Gee.. Shoot a guy one time.."

"It was three."

"Three bullets, one time!" She countered with a smirk, walking around to go meet Maxim halfway in the house.

He looked just like she remembered, making her wonder how good the years have been to him compared to her! He had a beard now, that was the only difference. Still her height, actually she may be a little taller than him now, and that would be something he'd hate! His dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail, but what she really noticed besides the greasy hair and crooked nose was the blue eyes still shining with the childish curiosity that never seemed to leave him, even though older than her by 4 years he was still the child between the pair.

She could see the laugh in those eyes before she could hear it, and a half second later the duffel bag he was carrying was dropped to the floor and she was scooped up into a tight hug and spun around. She let it happen, because she'd never fight him. She couldn't fight him! Long story, but he would probably kill her if ever in a battle and she grew to respect that about him!

"Natalia! It's been too long!" He said through his laughs, finally setting her on her feet after three more spins. He left his hands on her shoulders before giving her cheek a big kiss.

"Since when does Maxim Belov speak English?" She asked with an eyebrow raised, finally swatting his hands away to grab his bag and bring it to join hers. "I thought it was the language of the murderers?"

"Unfortunately have to change with the times to survive." He sighed. He had gone near 20 years of his life without any English, and who knows how long after they stopped speaking, so his accent was still as thick as if he were speaking Russian to her.

"Oh don't I know it." She sighed, setting about boiling some water for some coffee for the pair. As soon as she told him the mission they'd probably be up all night. If anyone would want Volkov dead more than herself, it would be Belov.

"I don't know if you are finding it as much a struggle, my dearest вдова ." He shrugged, sitting at the table with his arms behind his head as he watched her. "If what I see on the news is true, you and your little group are doing just fine over West."

"Feeling sentimental, Belov?" She snickered as she made the coffee, instant stuff, as strong as she could make.

"Well possibly after seeing you fighting against aliens in New York." He chuckled in response. Natasha knew it as his 'Shit, you caught me!' chuckle. "We might have been keeping eye on The Avengers."

"We..?" She asked with an eyebrow raised, turning to look at him with both mugs in her hands. She didn't know he was working with someone else, it made her nervous. The less people that knew she was here and looking for Volkov, the better. And he was a blabber mouth!

"I am in black market, my Widow." He chuckled with a wave of his hand, but Natasha was still a little curious. Regardless, she set the coffee infront of him and sat opposite her friend with her own. "Your team have busted a lot of us over in the States, and we were worried that it would travel."

"International really isn't our job." She shrugged, watching the hot drink swirl around the mug in her hands.

"What's ours?" He asked without a moment hesitation. She was impressed at how long it took him to question it though!

She smiled a little and reached into her bag. She watched his eyes grow slightly confused as she pulled out a folder.

"I think it'll interest you actually.." She said softly, carefully sliding the folder across the table to him. "An old friend of ours tried take out a member of my team, and is threatening the rest of them. I need to take him out."

"Who-" The question died on his lips when he opened the folder to view it's contents, his eyes slightly widening. In the dim light he seemed to be able to read it just fine. "You're mistaken, Natalia.."

"I saw him myself, Maxim." She whispered, leaning on her forearms to get a little closer to him. "It was Volkov, I'd know him anywhere. He was in a Hydra base, I don't know why, but I'd bet anything that it wasn't good."

"Shit.." He muttered, slipping back into Russian for the profanity made her wonder how shocked he actually was. "Why was he in America? Why would he be where Avengers were? What was he thinking?"

"I was kind of thinking more why is he alive.." She frowned curiously, watching his reaction carefully. He seemed way too comfortable with the fact that someone they presumed dead all these years suddenly popped up again.

"We never found his body." He sighed, shaking his head a little as he ran his hands over his face. "There was always the chance he survived. None of us ever wanted to admit it, Natalia. But surely now you can see that deep down you doubted it.."

"I never thought of my old live." She replied quickly, casually, adding in a shrug as he went back to reading the file. "Not until he popped up in the middle of a mission. If he's working with Hydra that could only mean bad things in the future. I can't let that happen, I can't let him hurt anyone again.."

"He's threatened your team?" He asked with an eyebrow raised, and she nodded. She passed him over the two polaroids she had kept in her jacket pocket and he frowned at them.

"Blew my partner sky high. I put them all in hiding, they'll be fine once Hawkeye is better, they'll protect eachother like they always do."

"You sound like you are not part of them, Widow."

"I'm not anymore." She shrugged. She wasn't an Avenger anymore, she had left them, so she couldn't talk about them like she was still there.

"What do you want from me?" A silence had fallen upon them and he only broke it with those words when the file was fully read through and he had sat back with his coffee.

"Information." She stated simply, quietly, almost afraid to ask for it incase she didn't actually want to know. "You're the best of the best at that, Maxim. I need to track him down, I need to end his operation, and I need him dead."

"A lot to do." He sighed, but he wasn't objecting, and he was actually smiling. He reached over to his duffel and took out a laptop, always one for starting as soon as he could! "Let me see what I can find out. Don't worry, Natalia. We'll get you back to those Yanks in no time!"

A small grin began to spread across her face and a nod soon followed. She didn't say anything, she didn't need to. This was just another job, another thing they do for eachother, there was never any need for gratitude or words between them, just actions. So she stood, grabbed their two mugs, and went to make more coffee for the long night they had ahead of them, and no doubt long few weeks that would follow.

She never thought of her past, never liked it, never appreciated what she went through. But dammit, she was so glad now that he was part of it for moments like this!

* * *

'Also present at the awards were New York's saviours - The Avengers. But, has there been some tension within the group? Our sources reveal that two of their member known as Hawkeye and Black Widow haven't made any appearances with the group in the past month..'

She knew why she wasn't making any appearances, because in the past month she's been holed up in this little house with Maxim looking for ways to get to Volkov. The only reason they left was to get supplies and for Belov to touch ground with some contacts he had helping them. He trusted them, so she would too.

But why wasn't Clint with them?

Every night in the past month she huddled herself infront of the little heater with her laptop and turned on the entertainment news. The Avengers were always a major topic, even with just the little things they did like charity events or tribunals, and there was always a major spread if they got themselves into a fight. These entertainment shows and the news sources online were the only sources to her team that she had.

She had to remain off radar, not even just remaining under it would do for this mission. If under it, if letting limited contact out, the chances of Volkov finding out she was here were increased and she couldn't have that.

The others were looking well. That's all she could say about what she was seeing. They were looking just like they had before she left, the odd time looking a little haggard, obviously after a mission or something going wrong with them, but that's about it.

The only difference was that the two assassins were missing.

But why was Clint missing? Didn't she leave strict instructions to stay by eachother at all times!?

Unless he isn't out yet, maybe he's still in hospital and the news isn't reporting on it. After all, Stark would cover up everything so no one knows one of them are compromised in any way. It was always the case. Avengers never got hurt, even when lying on life support they were never hurt, not to the public's knowledge at least.

It helped keep up their image, and it was always welcomed by Natasha, but now she wished more than anything that they'd give some sort of statement on Clint and herself just so she knew what the hell was going on.

With a sigh she slammed the laptop shut just as the reporter started going on about what Pepper was wearing at the event. That's something she really couldn't care less about!

A month she's been trapped in here, looking up locations she never even knew existed, tapping phone lines, doing what SHIELD couldn't with their resources with less than basic internet connection, and still there were no leads.

No leads on where Volkov was, no leads on what the hell he was doing or why, no clue how her team was, no proper idea if her leaving even managed to keep them safe. What if they already had to fend off an attack and they couldn't get in touch with her to find out? Why didn't she think to leave a burner phone name for Clint to find? Maybe then she wouldn't have to worry like this!

"Easy Natasha.." She murmured to herself. She held her face in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees, deep steady breaths being drawn in and out to centre herself once more.

She was over thinking all of this. They were fine, she was fine, she made the right call in leaving and there was no other way of thinking.

"Natasha.." She froze at the voice before letting out a breathless laugh. He was testing it, rolling it around his tongue like he couldn't believe it was muttered. It was late, or early, depending on how you viewed 3:47am, so she wasn't expecting him up and was pretty shocked that he could still sneak up on her!

"Well, Yanks don't like Natalia." She shrugged, moving to sit back against the sofa like nothing was wrong just a moment before. Maxim crossed over to her with his laptop held in hand.

"I don't like it." He shrugged as he casually sat next to Natasha. "Too personal. You letting people get close to you, Natalia?"

"Had to survive, Maxim." She sighed, finally looking at him to see him pulling something up on his laptop rather than focusing on her.

"You miss them."

It wasn't a statement, nor was it a question. It seemed more like Maxim was saying the words carefully and slowly to test them like he just did her name, either to answer a question he's been asking himself or a major one she's been asking herself she couldn't tell.

Of course she missed them. That was expected, right? Over the past while she can safely say they had become her partners, her team, her confidents. They had become people to protect, people she knew would protect her in return. They had become her friends, and it sickened her to say.

So, yes, she missed them. She missed Tony's stupid jokes, Clint's horrible pranks. She really missed Banner and Thor talk about science and magic like they were one in the same, or Pepper trying to bake with Sam on the team meal days. She missed Steve being her big brother, missed being a family. She missed them.

But she'd be damned if she'd say it out loud, to even herself. Instead, Natasha just shrugged, but the silence must have answered everything for him because a chuckle escaped Maxim as he turned the screen towards her.

"Good to know." He smirked, and if he wasn't a good friend of hers then she'd find the tone of voice pretty threatening. It's just Maxim though, he doesn't actually know how to speak softly to anyone. "Take a peek."

Honestly, Natasha hadn't a clue what she was looking at. It was a Google Maps image, showing a top view of a small warehouse. She couldn't figure out why he was showing her this. It was showing co-ordinates just outside of Baja in Hungary, just along the Serbian border with the country.

The people they were hunting would never be so far out of their comfort zone. They wouldn't dare travel and operate in such a zone.

But then again, the people they were hunting were now working with Hydra, so who knows what they're capable of.

"It's just a small arms facility from what my leads tell me." He said after giving Natasha a moment to memorise the map infront of her on the screen. It was turned away from her as he spoke. "I don't think there's many in there, but there should be someone who can give us some information on the bigger places."

"So we work our way up?" She asked as she stood, planning to leave right away. She knew he'd expect that though as soon as he told her.

"We work our way up." He confirmed with a nod and a smile. "We'll get you home to those little friends of yours within the week!"

She rolled her eyes and punched his arm playfully which resulted in a hearty laugh.

Start with small bases, they'd have info on other small bases until one spills on medium bases, then the same with the medium until one spills about the big ones, and the big ones will spill about the main one, and the main one is where she'd find her man.

She was missing SHIELDs way of getting the small and medium ones out of the way before sending in STRIKE Team Delta, but she was her own now, and she'd have to do the grunt work!

She turned her back on Maxim and sauntered off towards her room. "The sooner I get away from your ugly mug, the better. Let's get started."


	5. Chapter 5

Shh.. Hasn't been that long.. Shh..

Alright, it has been! Life got in the way and man it took me a while to like this chapter finished! Even now I know it can be better but I like it so it's being posted!

Love you guys! :)

 **DISCLAIMER;** I DISCLAIM ALL!

* * *

It's funny how routines are formed.

Routines were familiar, they were things that took ages to set up and even longer to break. They were habits and actions that the body naturally follows just as it does taking a breath every other second. Routines are formed by training, by teaching the body what to do and when to do it because that's what's best for it.

Routines were familiar, so they needed to be around familiarity in order to exist.

There existed a familiarity and therefore routine in the tower, but that seemed false, seemed almost forced, like she knew what she should be doing and knew what everyone else wanted to do and when they wanted to do it, so she forced herself into it.

There existed a familiarity and therefore a routine with Barton. That took alot longer to establish, trust had to be built and a friendship formed, and even then sometimes the pair fell out of their perfectly coordinated dance and slipped into a forced and uncomfortable 'routine'.

This routine was different. It had been well over a decade since Natasha's even so much as laid eyes on Belov, yet in just the first few days they fell into a seamless routine that made it feel like they had never parted in the first place.

She sat at the table and pondered this thought, her mug of coffee half raised to her lips as she watched him read over some files they had obtained from his contacts. He didn't seem to notice, his eyes still just scanning the words with his own coffee infront of him. It had been a month so far and there was yet to be any kind of waver, any kind of slip up or change, and it had her confused.

Things shouldn't be this familiar, shouldn't be this smooth, shouldn't be this relaxed. Not on a mission. Not with someone she hasn't seen in years.

"This should be the last base." He commented softly, which broke her out of her thoughts and made her look to the table to make sure he didn't notice her staring. "Says here that one of his henchmen was sent there about a week ago so he'll know exactly where Volkov is."

"If this one is in Russia then you think his main one is too?" She asked with an eyebrow raised as she looked over her own copy of the file.

If it turned out she was in the same country as the bastard all along - near enough the same area no less - then she was going to throw a fit.

All the smaller bases were out of the way, some out in Germany, one even in France, so there had been a lot of travelling. The medium ones seemed to be closer to home, with this last one actually in the capitol itself. So if it continued this way, then the main camp itself and therefore Volkov would be close by too. Right under her nose without her even realising it.

"It's possible." He shrugged. He finished off his coffee then stood with a crack of his back and a sigh. They were leaving at night fall, roughly two hours from now, so he was no doubt going to get ready like she should be doing. "Does it matter?"

She shrugged and looked down once more, studying the picture of the henchman they were after this time. Or at least pretending to. The idea he was here all along just had her too shook, too messed up. Too angry.

"You know.. I think I'd like to meet these avenging friends of yours." Her attention snapped to him at those words, Maxim just watching her with a slight smirk and his hands behind his head. "See who it was that made you soft."

"We'll see how soft I am when I snap your neck with my baby finger.." Romanoff mumbled with a scowl, but it just made Belov laugh and shake his head.

"Finish your coffee and go for your shower." Routine. Even he knew one existed. "We'll leave after you check on your little team."

He left the room with those words and she caught herself smiling a little at her coffee cup.

Routine.

It was a funny thing sometimes.

* * *

Routines also transcended beyond the home or living quarters.

Some people would put on their seat belt before starting the car - routine. Some people would walk on one side of the street over another, even if the other side made more sense route wise - routine. Some people went for lunch at the same time each day, did the same things in and out in work, spoke to the same people about the same kind of things around the same time every week. Routine.

In this kind of work, it was more difficult to form routines outside the home.

Routines meant predictability and predictability meant you'd be killed.

Yet here they were, in the middle of a KGB base, in the middle of a routine.

Predictability meant you'd be killed. Yet they were still alive.

For the past month of raids, they've been using the same plan. Since it worked flawlessly with one base, they just assumed - rightly - that it work for the rest of them. They'd scope out the building for any flaws or any kind of guard changing they'd need to know about. Once they had a pattern sussed, they'd move. Each would take one side and they'd work their way to the middle. Why? Because theses idiots worked off the idea that the middle of a compound was the safest place for the main function room. Kind of like how in old times the castle would be in the middle of a set of walls and moats and fire breathing dragons. Ok, maybe not dragons, but you get the picture.

They'd each take a side to make sure as much of the competition was taken out as possible. This meant it was less likely that they'd be interrupted when they got the main room. It also meant that if one was spotted then the largest amount of guards would go to that area, freeing up the other to get in, get what they need, and get out.

This wasn't like the missions with the Avengers back home. This had to be subtle, quiet, otherwise word would get to Volkov that bases were being attacked and information was being found out about him. He was smart, so after attacks like this on nearly all of his bases he was bound to catch on, but that didn't mean that safety wasn't to be observed anyway.

She was halfway through her section, occasionally hearing Belov tell her over the comms unit that he had moved to another hallway. That's how they knew roughly where the other was, important to know when going through such delicate work. She wouldn't want to accidentally knock him out because she didn't know he was in the hallway she was throwing gas into.

That's the best way to do this. Yeah, she had her weapons to threaten and kill if it came to it, but besides that she had ten gas cannisters on her belt to knock out people in the hallways. No fighting, no sound, and when they woke they wouldn't remember a single thing. They'd cut a gas line on the way out too to make them think it was just a failure that knocked them out.

Simple, subtle, something that they probably wouldn't report to the main base but instead fix themselves. So the hope that Volkov didn't know was still there.

"Six in." She whispered into the comms before rolling a cannister into the hallway, quickly ducking behind the wall then to wait for it to take effect. They had masks to ensure they wouldn't be affected by it, but still, she had to cover herself a little with the wall to make sure she'd be ok. She started counting 2 minutes in her mind.

"Slow down Widow." Maxim laughed softly in reply. 38 seconds. "I'm only on my fourth here."

"Well, maybe if you stopped waiting 4 minutes for 'extra safety' you'd be caught up by now."

"Hey, I don't want to be sleeping like those lot."

"Might as well be, the rate you're going." She smirked, hearing the sound of bodies dropping quite clearly.

This was her last hallway, then it was the main room. Each base seemed to have different uses, some were weapons manufacturers, others were busy with plan making, there was even one they discovered that dealt with accounts and finance. Wouldn't even think of something like that for an evil organisation, huh? But they have to get their funds from somewhere!

She hadn't a clue what this one was for. There seemed to be at most three guards in each hallway, and not too many rooms that led off of them. Those that did were either a supply closest or bathrooms, with one bedroom that was empty. She hadn't a clue who the occupant could be.

2 minutes passed, so she carefully stepped out to meet the clearing gas cloud, the outline of bodies lying on the floor let her know that this was definitely the last room. There were around 7 guards here, over double of the rest of the hallways, and at the end of it sat a single door. Not impressive, boring and grey just like the walls and other doors. They didn't really waste money when it wasn't needed.

When enough of the gas was cleared she took the mask off her face and secured it to her belt. She wouldn't need another cannister. Whoever was behind that door was needed awake and coherent enough to give the information they needed before being shot with something that would do the exact same job as the gas did to the other guards.

Stark tech worked wonders sometimes, even if it was just a strong muscle relaxant mixed with an anaesthetic.

She stepped over the bodies to make her way to the door, taking a moment behind it to ensure her pistol was still in working order before slowly opening it. None of that kicking in the door and raising hell, no. This had to be done right.

The room was pitch dark, silent. The only light being provided was the sliver finding it's way in through the opened doorway.

Empty. Lab equipment sat around, the ticking of a faint clock when she strained her ears a little to listen out, but besides that nothing.

No, not nothing.

There was a presence in the room. She could feel it, the tremble of a man who knows something terrible is about to happen, the smell of the fear leaking out in the form of perspiration.

In her heyday she loved it. She found now that she still did.

It was a lab of some kind. Reminded her of Banner's in the tower, less high tech than Starks' because Bruce was always someone of simple interests. Could be a harmless doctor or scientist, could be a guard hiding out to escape the gas bomb.

She had no way of knowing so she kept her weapon trained and waited for any sign someone was here. She knew there was.

One minute passed. Then two. She stayed by the open doorway and at 2 minutes 47 seconds she sighed and closed the door. Didn't leave though, but the two minutes of light would ruin any inexperienced eyes' night adjustment so there's no way anyone hiding out would be able to see her against the door.

A smirk crossed her lips when she heard a relieved sigh and a soft click, the following beam of light from underneath a cluttered desk let her know it was a flashlight switch.

Three softly placed steps later and she was by the side of the desk, just as the man was beginning to stand. His back was to her, so the cocking of the weapon ensured every muscle of his body tensed and an 'eep' sound that had Natasha pretty damn satisfied escaped.

The bullet would be sent straight into his skull if she was to fire, and as he turned she put her finger to her lips to ensure he stayed silent.

Lab coat. No weapon. Doctor or scientist like she guessed. The lab equipment scattered around and the lack of any real medical grade equipment lead her to guess scientist. If her partner were here, he'd guess that just because there was no stethoscope around his neck and end up wrong when a sleeping concoction is jammed into his neck. The Hawk could be a little dense sometimes.

"You keep quiet and you can stay alive, deal?"

He was too frozen to talk, but not enough to keep him from nodding his head, so she was satisfied enough to move away a little to turn on the main light to the room.

With the movement of the barrel, she signalled for him to take a seat and he complied, taking the office chair that sat behind the desk he was just cowering under.

"Doctor?"

"Riskin." He answered without her even needing to push any further. He seemed smart, a little aged, so he knew when was beat unlike the younger ones in the bases - all cock those ones were. "And you are?"

There was an accent there, not European which confused her a little. Volkov never worked with anyone outside of France or Germany, it was an unspoken rule with him. Yet she sensed a Canadian accent, or at least somewhere in that region.

"That doesn't matter right now Doctor." She replied coldly, he knew exactly who she was. She made her way back over towards the desk, weapon by her side but if anything happened it could be easily raised and fired. "Tell me, what are we doing here?"

"Is that really what you want to know my darling?" He asked with an eyebrow raised. The uneasy air was leaving him.

He knew what she wanted to know. But how?

"Well among other things, yes." She nodded. While this was a mission to get to Volkov it was also a way to get as much information as possible on what was actually going on in this new found organisation. "We'll get to the rest in a little bit."

A pause, a stand off. He was eyeing her up and down, considering her, analysing her. Stalling for time? Doubtful. A sigh on his part broke the battle and his gaze fell downward.

He was weighing his options and he just realised how little he actually had.

"Working on ways to get people talking." He soon admitted, quietly. He didn't want her to know. "Ways to make sure they tell the truth, to make sure their information is reliable. I research torture methods and group them into categories so that all the goons need to do is pick a set of traits for a person and they could find the perfect way to get to them."

"That's nothing new." She frowned, as sick as it made her feel it really wasn't. This was something that they had been doing since she was a child, since she was in the Red Room. She was put through trials of it - they all were - in order to ensure that she could hold up to the worst possible torture she could imagine and that they could imagine for her.

"You have to build on it, Ms. Romanova." He said softly, meeting her eyes with ones that held confusion, as if she was to realise that. "Every year, hell every month, new methods need to be tested and researched in case the old ones were used and no longer effective. We need to stay three steps ahead in case those we're after think they're two steps ahead, and the only way to do that is to keep trying."

"And what if someone you're after is four steps ahead?" She asked with an eyebrow raised, not expecting the serious frown to cross his face at the question.

"That can't happen." He shook his head quickly, sitting up a little straighter which had her raising the pistol just to be safe. "Boss would be furious if he found out they beat us to it."

"Speak of the devil, where is he Riskin?" She asked with a slight smirk, leaning on the table to get a little closer. "Intel tells us this is the secondary base. So where is the boss? Where's Volkov?"

"Volkov..?" He sounded so confused at the request, like it shouldn't be coming from her mouth. Was she wrong? Was he even involved with this place anymore? "Why do you need to know that?"

"Unfinished business." She shrugged. That's all he needed to know, and all she was willing to give.

Another stand off. She didn't have time for this. She sighed and shook her head before moving her hands to grip the side of the desk. With one swift and effortless motion, she flipped it, meaning that the desk fell right on top of the doctor and sent him flying backwards onto the floor. In a moment she was over to him, throwing the desk off of him and pinning him to the floor with a boot to the chest. The cool metal of the barrel found it's home against his forehead.

She was too close to the end to be playing games with some nobody.

"Location. Now." She growled forcefully, the not-as-threatening-as-could-be mood gone from her now. "Or we'll find the best way to get information from shit scared - seemed to have just pissed themselves - doctors."

"Perm! Perm, he's out in Perm!" He whimpered, hands going up to try defend themselves with his head turned to the side. As if that would help against a bullet. "Co-ordinates are on my main desk! I swear that's all I know!"

"All I needed to know." She replied quietly, putting the safety on her weapon before removing her boot and going to the desk to grab the co-ordinates. Ballet district, of course he was there.

She needed to wipe his mind, get to Maxim, then they could-

"There's one other thing.." He said quietly, and she looked around to see him just about getting to his hands and knees.

"What's that?" She asked with an impatient sigh, removing the syringe from her belt to clear him.

"If I don't tell you and you find out you'll come back and kill me.." He said quickly, looking up to her with wide scared eyes. "My favourite project the boss gave me the past month was to find out how to ruin an archer.."

An archer..? It couldn't be..

"I've seen your footage, Widow.. Your partner's an archer.." He said quietly, but she was going past calm now and entering anger. They couldn't have dragged him back into this. "I don't know if it's him.."

"It isn't." She growled, a forceful kick to the face sending him flying onto his back with a yelp. She was over him then, hands gripping his collar and her face menacingly close to his. "It'd be on the news that he's missing. It'd be known. It isn't him, you got it?"

Something crossed over his face - something she was used to seeing but it felt foreign in this moment. The momentary smoothing of his brow from worry and fear to determination, the the flick of the lips upwards that made his nose bleed that little bit more - definitely broken from her kick.

He was studying her. He was finding a weakness, he was doing his job - finding a way to torture her and get the information he wanted.

Shit, when did you become so soft Natasha!?

A smirk of her own soon brought the worried look back onto the doctors face. She wasn't giving him anything.

"You really want to know how I know for a fact it isn't him?" She asked softly, sweetly, like she was working a mark. Maybe she was - this guy had information she wanted and she had to work it out of him. That was the definition of a mark, right? Two square punches to the face made sure he'd be walking away from here with at least both eyes blackened.

"He'd never be taken by you lot. None of them would." Another punch, followed by a forearm to the throat - cutting off his air before he even got a chance to recover it.

"If you dare imply anything like that again.." She growled to him, knee moving ever so slightly from it's position on the floor to the mans crotch. All her weight resting on such a sensitive area had such a delightfully painful sound leaving him! She used the new position to grab the knife from her boot, letting him see just the tip and her smirk before moving her arm from his throat and using it to cover his eyes.

He started struggling more and it made this all the more enjoyable. "I'll make this beating look like a walk in the park." She finished her threat in a whisper.

Getting rid of sight meant not only did the doctor have no idea what would happen or when, but it also heightened sensitivity.

She started off being in control - every punch, cut, shock, and sting were calculated and thought through. But this was starting to relieve stress, this was getting rid of over a months worth of pent up anger and frustration.

What started as calculated torture turned to sloppy insults and beatings, slowly but surely then turning to her simply punching an unconscious doctor to a bloody pulp.

Looking back she should have sensed his presence. She should have heard him calling, should have known someone was there. But she was so distraught, so angry, so willing to kill this man, that the only time she knew Belov was there was when he was pulling her away from the unconscious man kicking and punching and - yes - possibly screaming at him.

"That's enough!" He yelled, throwing Natasha towards the door and standing between her and the doctor. "Get out of here, back to base, and I'll sort this mess!"

She reached for her gun and steadied her feet, the sight lined right at Maxim's head.

His manner changed, instantly turning to one of relaxed - his hands moving to protect himself rather than the doctor. She wouldn't kill him, she couldn't. She needed him to complete this mission. There were no two ways around it.

"I am not your enemy, Widow.." He started softly, his hands lowering a little to test the waters. It worked, her weapon began to lower as if her own hands were mimicking his. "Just got for a walk, ok? We'll meet up back at base after I fix this."

"Kill him" she growled as she threw the shot of drugs for him to catch, holstering her weapon first though. She turned to leave then without even bothering to give another glance at the man she beat to a pulp. "I'll have Volkov dead before they get a chance to warn him. So who cares about a mess?"

Only one man could get to her this much, only one man could make her so weak and vulnerable. And she was going to make sure he paid. Bogdan Volkov was in for a world of pain.

* * *

This was it. This had to be it, right?

There was never any "had to" when it came to these situations, after years of working in this business Natasha should know better than to rely and "had to"'s.

But it had to be!

The last base had to give her the right information, the guy seemed so sure of it when he was questioned, so there was no doubt in her mind that they got it right this time round.

Slowly, she lowered the binoculars that were pressed against her eyes for the past twenty minutes, the sight they provided of the camp's main complex now etched into her memory as a plan formed.

After leaving the last base, the pair had returned back to their hide out in order to prepare for what she was hoping would be their last raid. She was getting tired, getting annoyed, and was afraid that would mean that sooner or later she'd get sloppy. Hell, in that last base she pretty much had. If Maxim wasn't there, who knows how far she would have went. But she regrouped, she got it together, and she did her job.

It was what she was trained for, what she was best in the world at. Killing and torturing without leaving a suspicious trace, killing to make it look natural, killing like a Black Widow should kill.

"What is it looking like?" Belov whispered from beside her, his breath forming a cloud of vapour. That and his voice was the only way she knew he was still alive next to her. He was a pro, just as much as she was, so not a muscle was moved as they lay on the snow covered hill for the past hour.

"Looking like fun." She smirked with a slight shrug added, busying herself by putting the binoculars back into the little bag they had. She then took out one of the glock's in there to make sure it was fully stocked and ready to go.

"Same plan?" He asked casually. He was already starting to move from his position, eventually reaching a crouched position by her side.

She glanced up at him a moment, the only light available out in the middle of no where in the middle of the night being that from the moon, but she still managed to see that he was staring down at the complex with a lock tight jaw.

He was too calm. He was never one for getting frazzled, trained the same way as herself. But even so, she was even a little shaken by the thought of facing this monster again.

He was under Volkov's control for so many years more than she was, so how was he so calm?

An odd twinge ran through her, a feeling she hasn't felt since seeing girls leave the Red Room; she was jealous. Jealous that he was here in a much better state than her, jealous that he could watch this camp and think of Bogdan without getting sick to the stomach. She was jealous.

That had to be the feeling, right? Surely it was just that.

He must have sensed her eyes on him for a fraction too long, or maybe he was just wondering why there was no voice answering his question, because with a quick eyebrow raise his face was turned towards hers.

"Doing ok?" It was soft, like his eyes, and she hated the pity she could find laying beneath them so she looked away with a curt nod. "You sure..?"

She didn't know why he was asking it. Did she look weak? Did she seem upset? She made sure her mask of indifference was on before nodding and making a move to stand, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.

"I don't think I've ever seen you compromise a mission before."

"We're human. Not machines." She sighed. When had she started to sound like Clint? "Sometimes that side just takes over."

"Not with us." He sounded so serious. Not pissed off but like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you really telling me all your training has gone out the window? If so, Natalia, I'll retire right here and now. You were the best recruit, the best in training, I-"

"Fuck our training!" She snapped, cutting him off with a glare added in his direction. She didn't have time for - nor really care about - a lecture from him. "We got out of there, we made our own lives, so what if I've left some things behind? It wasn't safe or even practical how I was before! The Red Room never made perfect soldiers, no matter how much they claimed they did. They just fucked up perfectly healthy and fully functioning children and the sooner your brainwashed mind realises that the better!"

Harsh. She knew it was. But it was what she needed to hear all those years ago and it's what he needs to hear now. They're not perfect. They never were. They're so far from it that it's just laughable.

Silence met her words though. She couldn't see him well, so she had no idea what kind of look he was giving.

"They really got to you, huh?"

Not the Red Room, no. If he was talking about them he wouldn't be saying it so soft and casually. That was his Avengers voice, the one he used when he'd ask her about them all.

"It's nice to have friends, Maxim." She sighed, though she was happy that he at least spoke to her. Even if it took an awkward moment or three.

"Friends?" Question? Possibly. His tone was odd right now and she found that she couldn't place it. "Good to know.. I'll keep that in the back of my mind."

"Same plan." She finally replied to his earlier question without meeting his gaze again, maybe she was embarrassed, maybe she just didn't feel like being friends right now, she couldn't tell.

"I don't think I'm done with this talk." He said suddenly, but she shook her head and started taking supplies from the bag infront of her. "What about this archer? What is he to you."

Off limits to you, Belov. That's what he is.

"Now's not the time, Maxim." She sighed with another shake of her head. She put her trusty knife in her boot, aware of the eyes that were on her, before making sure that everything was in it's place and her bites were ready to take down some guards. "Straight in. You take the right, I'll take the left. Meet in the middle and get this guy."

"Same plan." He sighed with a nod before completely disappearing from view. She knew where he went, he was running right down the hill that led to the camp. A half a second later, she was doing just the same thing.

This camp was perfect for Volkov to hide out in. In the middle of no where, no un-natural light around it, hillsides surrounding the base and a barbed fence doing the same. The nature of Russia meant that it got dark early, and when dark like now the only way it can be seen is by the little bit of moonlight that previously illuminated her partners face.

Through the binoculars it was a little easier to see what they were dealing with. Every 2 minutes and 17 seconds, another security team would pass the spot in the fence she was eyeing. This side must have been the back of the camp since there was no entrance gate along the length of it. They knew, without speaking it, they had to wait half the time between different teams to break in so both would be far enough out of ear shot in case the pair of them made any sound.

Once down along the hillside, she could see nothing. She couldn't even see Belov even though the sounds let her know that he was only a couple of feet ahead of her current position.

There was no humming. Their worry was that the fence was electric, but the lack of hum the closer she got to the compound let her know that the fear was uncalled for. They never were, not in the smaller bases at least, so why would this one be different?

There were no windows to the place. It was a sealed monster of a building. All brickwork, except the door she'd break into in the back and the one Maxim would use in the front. No windows meant that any light inside wouldn't escape and the chances of anyone seeing what they were doing was taken out completely.

She'd be willing to bet this used to be some kind of torture centre, a secret place that the government or military would bring people who weren't co-operating. But she knew about all of those. No, this was worse. This was built on private land for the soul reason of ruining young girls lives.

Natasha had to shake her head of the thoughts, get rid of the idea that what happened to her is happening behind those walls, get rid of the thoughts that she could have stopped this had she killed the asshole responsible all those years ago.

She had to get rid of those thoughts because, as she got closer and closer to the complex, the sick twisted feeling in her gut got worse and worse. A feeling like that wouldn't help complete this mission.

He was there before her. He was already carefully cutting a space in the wire fence by the time she was crouching beside him. That's how she knew right away something was getting to her, or him, because on a normal day she'd beat him in a race even with the head start he got.

Either she was nervous or he was excited.

Right now, she thought it might be both.

No alarm went off when the fence was cut, and before the next round of guards went by they were in and against their respective walls. They had another half minute or so before they would round the corner and bust the pair, so she took a moment to find her door and stay flush against it.

She glanced to her side to check on Belov and saw him skirting around the wall himself. One moment he was sending her a smirk and the next he was gone, and she had to follow suit.

The doors were code operated, and the files Belov found in the previous base held a set that seemed hopeful. Every hour they changed code, she didn't know how and she didn't care. All she knew is that at this hour it was 436584. She had been repeating the number over and over again all day so she wouldn't mess this up and, sure enough, the door opened with a pop and a green light on the key pad when entered.

She ducked inside with 12 seconds left before the next guard team were set to round the corner, and just in case she was met by resistance the pistol was drawn and in her hand as she flushed herself against the inside wall.

The hallway was dark, the perfect chance for anyone who wanted to take their best shot at attacking her.

But there was nothing.

No resistance, no guards, no nothing like there was in even the small bases. In this one, she was just met with a dark hallway that slightly whistled at her as the wind blew outside.

She pouted, and as her eyes finally adjusted she realised that she wasn't just being played - there was in fact no one here.

But this was the main base.. There had to be someone..

With a tentative step, she moved. She didn't know where the hallway led if she was being honest. It seemed already that this base had a completely different lay out than those they previously attacked. She just walked, tentative step after tentative step in the direction she hoped would lead her to the centre of the base, or at least to people so she knew she was in the right place!

Three corridors passed her by. In each one lay a room, and she had to clear them. But there was nothing to be cleared. Honestly, they were all completely empty bar some equipment. There were some beds in one, bunk beds, for the guards she assumed when they needed a rest.

No people.

She still stuck by the wall and, as she neared the 4th corridor, she finally began hearing voices. She crouched down a moment by the corner that connected the hall she was leaving with the one she wanted to go to and peeked around it. Just an instant let her know that there were 4 guards standing around talking. They had weapons across their chests, automatics, but that didn't matter. They'd be dead before they could even reach for them.

In a heart beat she was on her feet again and around the corner, the four men dead with bullets in their heads before she even took two steps forward.

While she should be happy that it was going so smoothly, she really wasn't. It shouldn't be this easy, and that had her nervous.

She took careful steps towards the bodies, the four men basically lying ontop of one another since they were in such close proximity. As she hunched down beside them she spared a glance towards the door in the hallway. No one came running out, no one came running over from the other hallway, even with the sound of four gunshots ringing out.

She was kind of hoping that it would draw someone out, give her a bit of action, because she was already near the end of this base and she's had zero fun!

She looked at the bullet wound in the last guys head and frowned at the blood still spilling from it. A thought took her that said Volkov wasn't here, that it was just another base. It made her sick.

If it was just another base, she had to push on anyway! Just because he's not here doesn't mean there's not information about him somewhere.

She pushed on. The thought slowly pushing itself deeper into her mind with each passing empty room and hallway.

The only thing that gave her a bit of hope was when she got to where the centre of the base would be. The hallway leading to it was full of commotion, the sound of hushed tones being heard upon approach let her know that there were quite a few of them gathered around what should be the main room!

But they shouldn't be talking, shouldn't be standing, because Belov should have been there.

"Maxim, come in." She whispered into the comms, realising she hasn't heard anything from him the entire time they've been in the base. In the others he'd give her an annoying play by play of his whole mission. "I'm on location, what's your status?"

Nothing.

"Maxim, status."

He was no where to be seen, and wasn't answering his comms. Both bad signs.

If she made it here by now, then surely Belov would have too. It wasn't like before with gas, this was all fight to kill, something he was amazing at and something he could and should be able to do with an arm tied behind his back if needed. The fact her side was so bare maybe meant there was more on his side? Possible. He might still be fighting his way through while she simply walked here.

She didn't peek around the corridor this time, thinking she might be spotted. So when crouched behind the wall she pulled a cannister of gas from her belt and threw it into the hall. She held her breath, knowing she could do so for 5 minutes 34 seconds at least. Long enough for the gas to dissipate enough.

After 2 minutes, and after a deep sigh that cleared her mind once again, she poked her head around the corner. No guards by the door. None were sanding at least. It would appear that the gas did it's job and had them down for the count just like so many times before.

The fact that they had weapons that made the other guards ones look like super soakers further solidified that this was where she was to be. That and she counted at least nine of them, probably ten and the last was under another. She waited another beat just to ensure the guards were well and truly out before stepping from her position and making her way towards the large metal doorway.

She paused after stepping over the near lifeless forms of the henchmen on the floor, hand just hovering over the doorknob. This was too easy.

It was too simple for her to get this far. The security in this base - supposedly their main one - seemed to be worse than that of the small bases they started with over a month ago.

He was gone. That was the only logical explanation. Somehow the doctor remembered what he told her and Volkov was gone. Whoever was behind here was just a big fish in a small pond.

With a forceful growl she knocked the door through without another thought, gun trained infront of her to ward off any potential attackers.

What greeted her just set the confusion deeper in her mind.

"Widow! Took longer than I expected!" Volkov was relaxing behind a desk, his gaze downward watching something in his hands on the wooden top. A stop watch, upon further inspection.

"Tried put off seeing your ugly mug for as long as possible." She snapped back, finger just itching to pull the trigger. Where the hell was Belov? They promised eachother the pair of them would be there to finish him off. To make sure of it this time. "This game is done. You're done and so is this hell hole."

"After all this time you still think I'm in charge here?" He asked in genuine shock, but a sickening chuckle escaped when she couldn't supply him with an answer.

Who else would be in charge? He was the most senior of them left, the only one who knew the old ways. There's no one else it could possibly be.

The chuckle turned into a laugh and she so wanted to pull the trigger.

There were so few guards, so little resistance, because he wasn't worth guarding.. He wasn't in charge anymore..

Someone was approaching behind her, the sounds of the footsteps were familiar. It had to be Maxim and she really didn't want to take her attention away from Volkov to confirm it.

"You're right, sir.." Sir..? Bogdan Volkov calls no one sir! "She has gone soft!"

The sound of a scoff made her turn, but a blow to the side of the head from something metal had he consciousness gone before she even hit the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

ONTO THE NEXT!

Thanks for reading and saving and following and just yeah!

I don't know how well this one is edited because it is 4am and I am tired but yeah!

REVIEWS! Or, well, review.

Smileyjunior; Because I am evil and usually cliff hangers are me getting tired of typing and wanting to save material for later chapters! :P Hope you enjoy this one :)

DISCLAIMER!; I DISCLAIM EVERYTHING!

* * *

Her limbs felt heavy. It was kind of like coming around from a long drinking session with Steve and Thor - only with a worse headache and no annoying voice of Barton 'testing' her limits.

Barton.

Have something to do with him? She thought it did. Whatever stupour she was in had 'partner' screaming in her mind. Maybe not Barton. She'd been with Steve for a while, so was it just a bad night drinkiing with her now partner in almost-crime?

She sighed in annoyance when her head gave a warning thump. When she tried stretch out Natasha knew it was something alot worse.

She couldn't move her arms, and when her eyes shot open and adjusted to the light she could see her wrists shackled to the chair she was sitting on. She could struggle against them, albeit weakly, but she still had some control. Not drugs then. Possibly just a bad concussion - the only other thing she could think of that would give her a fuzzy and painful head.

Whoever had her knew what they were doing. She could get out of ropes and chains no problem. Every knot - bar one so far on Earth - had a code that made it possible to be undone. But shackles were different. You needed brute force or the key to the lock to undo them, and while she was of above average strength that wasn't enough to rip through leather and steel.

During her struggles she realised she couldn't move her feet either. Same story there - both ankles shackled to the legs of the chair. Whoever did this really knows Natasha Romanoff.

They knew her legs were quite possibly her deadliest weapon, knew that sitting for long periods of time tended to make her uncomfortable, that drugs were less than useless on her and wear off long before they're meant to, and that she's been undoing the most expertly tied knots since childhood so they're worse than no restraint at all because they give her a rope or chain to use in attack.

Childhood..

No one should know about that.

Her eyes went slightly wide as the realistation took her - all the memories before her capture flooding right back to her. The bases, the mission, getting to Volkov, him knocking her out when she finally found him.

No, it wasn't him.

She knew the person who attacked her, knew the footsteps and the scoff. She growled angrily - more in annoyance at her own stupidity than at anything that traitor had done. She trusted had trusted him.

Trust was always her damn downfall! When would she learn?

The room looked famliar - probably cleared it or one similar to it during the raid. Both men who had her were strong but she'd bet anything that they wouldn't risk wasting time bringing her to another base. If she woke in transit she'd have definitely killed them in an instant.

A drip had her head screaming at her in annoyance. It was constant, but not rhythmic. It would echo around the room meaning she couldn't pinpoint where it was. What was worse though was her location in the room. Middle of it, light above her head, staring at a blank wall. A quick glance either side let her know the door was behind her.

She'd have to rely on her senses to know if someone was there. A smirk suddenly broke out across her face, a quick - and very unappreciared - shake of the head following. It was everything that could annoy her all rolled into one.

Her placement meant she couldn't be in control, couldn't figure out when someone would be there to defend against. The light ensured there couldn't even be a shadow to alert her.

 _Drip._

A laugh escaped. Even that damn drip served a purpose - to throw off any little bit of concentration she had entirely. She was also positive that the cuffs restraining her were in different positions on her wrists - triggering that little tiny bit of OCD she had picked up.

The thought of the purpose of the previous base suddenly struck Natasha. What was it that doctor said he was studying? Ways to effectively torture or something to that nature. So was that Belov's purpose this entire time? To study her, find those weaknessess she so easily showed infront of him, then plan out her capture and torture? No. Something twisting in her stomach told her something worse than that was going on.

"Natalia?" She didn't jump. Even if the voice did surprise her she couldn't give any indication that the asshole's were getting to her.

"Belov." She replied coldly but the man in question remained out of sight. She didn't know how the room was sound proof, or even if it was. For all she knew right now there was no door at all to the place to even hear being opened.

"I hope you don't think less of me for this.."

 _Drip._

After it she could hear a faint scraping. She knew Maxim well enough to know he had his hands in his pockets and was pushing at the ground with the toe of his shoe. She didn't know though if he was sincere about his words.

"If I thought any lower of you right now I'd team with Loki himself to take you down." She remained calm. She always did in these situations.

She was trained in receiving both legal and illegal interrogation by two of the best organisations in the world. The only difference this time was the only one who knew her whereabouts and could therefore help her was kind of the one doing the interrogating and knew her inside and out.

"The restraints were just a precaution.." He came into view finally and she had to forget herself a moment to raise an eyebrow at his appearance.

Gone were his tatty mission clothes she was sure were the same ones from all those years ago. Gone was the shaggy hair in a sloppy pony tail and carefree expression. Instead what stood infront of her could only be described as a STRIKE team version of her former partner. The Brock Rumlow of the Red Room if you will. Slick back hair, clean face, tact vest and camo pants, and these hardened eyes that looked so out of place for his usually soft features.

"If you're ok to sit alone I can remove them." He made a move to free the first wrist but her words stopped him in his tracks.

"Remove them and it'll be the last thing you do." A promise, not a threat. She might as well warn him because the six other guys he brought with him were no where near as quiet as him so she knew she was out matched if they were armed. And she knew if she was released then she wouldn't be able to control her murderous ideas.

After a pause Belov let out a sigh and shook his head. He moved then to kneel down infront of Natasha, his head level with hers so she was forced to look him the eye.

"Natalia.."

"Natasha." She snapped the correction to her name which cut him off before he even finished the breath. "I haven't been Natalia for a long time."

"Just stop and listen for a minute." He started with a sigh - an annoyed one more than a fed up one. His hands lay ontop of hers - which were in tight fists - and she just wished him a little closer so she could get a head butt in. "You're here for a reason, Widow."

"Yeah, I know that. Your sick pleasure." She spat as she shook her head at his comment. She didn't even care about the painful look it caused him. "Working for Volkov again? How could you sink so low?"

Something flashed across his eyes just as something knotted in her stomach. Something was wrong with what she said. But right now she couldn't figure out what.

With yet another sigh Maxim stood and she watched as he gave a curt nod directed behind her. They sound of shuffling feet quickly followed and all was quiet for a moment while Maxim just stared behind her, hands shoved in his pockets.

He was thinking, gathering his thoughts. She knew the look from when he'd be making a plan for them. She stayed quiet, didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing her own thoughts. If she could get him close again, rouse him in, get in a good blow then maybe she'll have enough leverage to get herself out. No guards were here, and he was about to release her, this could be her chance.

Natasha watched - as far as her field of vision would allow - as he moved behind her only to return a moment later with a second chair.

"I wanted to talk to you about something for a while.." He started, positioning the chair infront of her before taking a seat. He leaned forward to get close, arms resting on his knees. "I just had to find the perfect time for it.."

"And you think me tied to a chair with a probable concussion is the perfect time for it?" She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion as she asked - because it was absolutely crazy for him to say.

A chuckle met her words though, humourless.

"Only way I know for sure you won't be able to kill me.." Well that'd happen anyway as soon as she got out of here! He continued when she didn't answer him this time. "Natalia, you're one of the most feared yet respected women in the world. You took on armies and aliens, countries and organisations, hell from what I heard you and your team even took on a robot army and walked away! How did you get that way?"

"Damn hard work and sacrifice." She didn't know if it was a rhetorical question or not but it was the only true answer to it. He shook his head though - expression serious once more.

"Training, practice, and study. Volkov. The Red Room, Natalia."

"The Red Room did nothing but make my life hell for my childhood years!" She snapped back. That was one comment that would always send her blood boiling. He knew that already so there was no point in hiding it now.

"They made you who you are! They shaped your life, your career, you owe them your life!" He didn't like her reply it seemed. Why was he saying this?

He was ruined just as much as she was by those people. Then again, boys in the place were usually pretty much pampered. They weren't treated as poorly as the girls. They would rise in ranks and make it to the top by the time they were teenagers. They would go to the fancy meals and parties, meet the business people, spar with the girls to teach them. It's how they met - he was her sparring partner one day and she broke his nose.

Boys were spoiled in the organisation.

Then.. Could it be..?

"You never left them.." She whispered a little breathlessly, not believing it even as it left her lips. But the way he shifted told her more than his words could.

"No one ever leaves the Red Room, Natalia." He started softly, shaking his head a little. "When you first left I was tasked with keeping an eye on you, making sure you weren't spilling any secrets or plotting against us. After our last mission together - when you disappeared to America with that archer - I reported back that you weren't a threat and we went underground. "

"Red Room never ended?" She asked in disbelief - her mind spinning now at the revelation. She was so sure of it! Her contacts were sure of it. Hell, even SHIELD were sure that the Red Room was done and would never be a threat again!

"For a year or two." He shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "Stayed quiet and low in case you and the Americans were searching. Slowly came back around to our former glory. We need new soldiers and-"

"You need to eat shit!" She was a little louder than intended but she knew exactly what 'soldiers' meant and it made her sick. "How could you do that to them!? How could you work for him after everything that happened!?"

No.

Not _for_ Volkov.

She deflated as the memories finally returned.

"About that.."

"You son of a bitch.." Her whisper cut him off before he could feed her any bullshit he practised infront of the mirror before coming here.

 _Drip drip._

Good lord where was that coming from?

His sad eyes avoided her gaze - one which, if stares could actually send daggers, would have him dead in an instant. He knew exactly what was coming.

"You had me under your nose, under your care. You had me plan, had me work, had me spill every little secret because dammit I trusted you and in the end Volkov works for you?"

"Try to understand Natalia."

"There's too much to try understand and none of it makes any sense!" She cut off his pleas with a yell, giving another struggle against the binds that held her away from snapping his neck clean in two. "After what those bastards did to us, did to out families? For God's sake Maxim - you're leading this sick organisation after what they did to your sister!?"

He was up. She hit a nerve. The only sound in the room after he shot up was the chair clattering backwards onto the cold unforgiving floor below.

Stare down.

She may be prey right now but that doesn't mean she can't do a little hunting of her own. It was her favourite move after all and knowing her mark so well made it easy.

Silence remained between them for a few moments, neither yielding to the game of chicken currently underway. Until she noticed his brow soften and fists slowly begin to unclench. A deep breath later and he was making his way past her.

"I'll give you a day or two to calm down."

"When I get out of here.." She responded coolly, her own hands in fists once more as she stared at the wall infront of her. She could just about make out the sound of his softly placed steps halting somewhere behind. So she continued. "You're gonna wish you were Volkov. His death is going to be alot less painful. I promise you that."

A scoff met her words but he knew it was a promise. She never threatened lightly. Retreating footsteps, this time sounding deliberately heavy. He was reinforcing the point that she was truly alone.

Fine by her. She had alot of planning to get done.

* * *

There was a time once in Baghdad - STRIKE Team Delta were sent in to investigate a terrorist cell that had somehow got their hands on extremely sensitive and advanced SHIELD tech. It was the first time she enacted her now trademarked-in-SHIELD trojan plan. She'd purposely get captured in order to get the idiots thinking they had the upper hand, but then she'd easily have them spilling their guts to her because they thought it'd be safe to.

It was the first time she ever had to fully trust someone.

They had been paired together before, but this was different. She had to trust Barton enough to come for her within 3 days - her limit of no sleep before she gets into a dangerous vital state.

Sure enough, on the third day nearly to the minute, an arrow fell her newest interrogator and Clint was standing in the doorway with the most shit eating grin ever.

This was the fourth day and she knew no amount of trust in someone would help her escape this time.

She hadn't slept a wink. She knew they probably wouldn't risk doing anything to her, but she could never be too safe and sleeping wasn't safe. This way she could also tell time somewhat. It had been 4 days, three hours, twenty seven minutes since Maxim had left her here. All that time with no food, no drink, no sleep, hell not even a little bit of human contact had her weak and frustrated.

Three days had always been her limit, so there was a little twinge of pride knowing how long she's lasted without passing out entirely.

Headache started to leave after the first day. At least she thought it did. All the other aches and pains from sitting rigid so long began around that time so she couldn't really tell if all of those were just so strong that they out shone the headache.

A day or two he said. Obviously after her threat of killing him he decided she needed double that to chill out a little. She sighed to herself and let her head fall forward, chin resting on her chest. She's lasted through interrogation for weeks on end, but this was different. There was no one to bounce off, no way to keep her mind sharp and going. She had a plan of escape within the first few hours and there's only so many times you can run the same few sentences through your mind before the words lose all meaning!

 _Drip._

That fucking thing was going to be the first thing she finds and destroys when free!

She sighed softly as she shifted her hands a little to keep them from going dead again. That was not a pleasant feeling at all.

He knew her.

He knew her so well that he knew exactly what would get to her the most.

He knew her. So how the hell did she not know him?

She should have known. Thinking back on it there was no probably about that statement. She simply should have known he was involved in this or at least involved in something odd.

He was more surprised that Volkov was in America near Avengers than he was that the ass was actually alive. He somehow had the exact right contacts to get them every single base and knew an exact and perfect plan for them. Sure it was his decision to split up, so during those raids was he just sitting back with his employees testing her? The scientist even knew something was up. He didn't understand why she was looking for Volkov, and when she wanted him dead sure enough Maxim said he'd take care of it. No way he'd kill his lead scientist!

Everything pointed to something fishy.

She was an idiot..

He knew so damn much about her now because she was idiot through the past few weeks and gave him everything. He asked so many personal questions, and she willingly gave every answer. They were partners once, best friends, there was no reason not to! He knew all her weaknesses..

She frowned and let her head fall forward once more, allowing her eyes to fall closed for a moment just to rest them. Why had they her here?

They could have killed her - very easy to put a bullet through her head while she's restrained like this. They could have had their way with her, could have sold her on and shipped her off if that's what they were planning, could have done a number of things that she would usually be tied up for by now - but nothing was coming.

She was just left there, with the walls and the drip, with her thoughts and plans. Just left alone to stew, and it was driving her insane.

She smirked. That was it. Drive her mad with guessing rather then give her any indication as to what would happen. If she knew what was going to happen then she could prepare herself, build up her walls and make sure she was ready. This was different. She'd be completely blindsided.

Belov was there with one ankle shackle released and the other in the process before she knew what was happening. She knew he was good, but he was no where near good enough to sneak up on her in such a way. She must have finally fallen asleep without even realising it.

He was waiting for her to.

Camera's somewhere? Possible.

She waited, watching through slitted eyes - as her second leg was freed - for an opening. Maybe waiting until she was asleep wasn't his smartest move in the past few weeks. Because, while still feeling weak, her little cat nap have her just enough energy mixed with the adrenaline to send Maxim flying to the ground with a head sizzors.

As soon as he was flipped over onto his back she was using a little momentum to roll the chair backwards and smashing it in the process. That meant the shackles around her wrists were no longer attached to anything and not only could she stand freely but she could do some real damage!

This all only lasted a fraction of a second, and she would have proceeded in kicking his ass then and there, but from behind she heard the safety removal of at least five automatics. She wasn't stupid enough to take on all of those. She turned to face her would be attackers - 6 soldiers with weapons trained and one evil fuck known as Bogdan Volkov standing infront of them with hands behind his back and a smirk gracing his features.

"Guess you were right, Boss.." Volkov laughed. The words turning her stomach. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to Maxim running this hell hole.

"I always am when it comes to Natalia.." He laughed - though a little breathless - from behind her. An amused chuckle that made her turn back to face him with an eyebrow raised. He was on one knee watching her, his hand massaging the back of his neck. "Been sparring with my partner long enough to know how to roll with that move. Anyone else would have a broken neck right now."

"What the hell do you want?" She spat, trying her best right now to not lunge for him. A bullet would probably be in her skull before she even got close to Maxim.

"Just let me take your shackles off?" It was a question but like she could really refuse it. When she just stared him down he slowly raised his hands to show that all they held were the keys.

The adrenaline was beginning to leave her already so all the aches and pains and just pure exhaustion of the past few days took over. She dropped her head and raised her hands to be freed from the damn cuffs.

A moment later he was infront of her and the restraints were fully removed.

"Will you walk with me and we can discuss things?" He sounded so sincere, like he was still a friend and didn't just trap her in a room for days on end.

"There's nothing to discuss." Natasha replied quietly as she lift her head to look him in the eye. "So either you kill me or let me kill us all so this can be over."

If she didn't know any better she'd say hurt just flashed through his eyes. But she liked to think that she knew a hell of alot better than to believe that.

"Natalia.." He started with a sigh before catching himself and waving a hand, dismissing the all the guards from the room. His next words were only spoken when she could no longer head disappearing footsteps. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting longer then intended.."

She could snap his neck now and no one would notice until she was long gone. But in her current state could she really pull that off or would he manage to just swat her away like some annoying fly?

"I had some work to do and it's difficult to get good help now-a-days to get things done.."

"I don't think I want to know what 'help' you needed, Maxim." She sighed, only guessing at what horrors lay in this place that need good help. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side for him to continue. It felt good to have control over her arms once more! "I'll ask once. What do you want with me?"

"Ah!" He grinned with a snap of his fingers - like he suddenly remembered that was the point he was trying to get to with his lack-of-sense-making rambles. "See, I REALLY need some good help with all of this - otherwise the venture is useless."

He motioned with one hand to the entry way of the room and, when she defiantly wouldn't move, let her see the glock strapped to his waist with the other. He had her outmatched so she began walking with him.

"When we were here this place was at it's prime. It was spitting out agents the likes the world has never seen and doing it so effortlessly!"

"That's one way to say 'torturing children to make them killers', but not a way I'd suggest." She remarked dryly as she let him lead the way.

"But now.." She found some sweet little pleasure in how much reminding him of what really happened here ticked him off! He smothered the anger that began creeping into his words before allowing himself to speak again. "We're starting this up with no trainers, no one who knows how things were run back then. Sure, Volkov knows the business end - who to sell to and how to sell."

He motioned for her to enter a room and she obliged, two guards inside standing to attention the second Maxim entered. He didn't dismiss them this time.

"But we've had no one who knows the training, no one who knows the discipline and patience. We had no one who could make these kids into soldiers. No one, that is, until you picked up the phone and dialled my number."

Her eyes went wide and she could have sworn her head would fly off her shoulders with how quick she was shaking it. She watched him move behind a large wooden desk in the room - his office she realised - and motion for her to take the seat opposite.

"You can't be implying what I think you are!" She pretty much yelled at him for the first time today. She took a step back from the desk with another shake of her head when he didn't answer straight away. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

He frowned at her outburst and sat back to swing on the chair. "Natalia.. You're the best of the best. Red Room, KGB, SHIELD, Avengers. There's no one else we can get! No one else can ensure these agents are better than even the mighty Avengers!

"Not a chance." She spat. At her words, the two guards in the room instantly trained their weapons her way. She wasn't going to get near him in this base it would seem.

"Please see this my way.."

"Your way is wrong!" She yelled once more as she slammed her hands on the desk - it made Maxim jump from fright which is something that she never thought she'd say. "I will never help you! You'll have to kill me if you want anything from me! I will not put children through the hell we suffered and nothing will change that!"

"Clinton Barton." He said calmly, causing her to falter a moment before eyeing him up and down. He had recovered from her little outburst and was calmly watching her with his hands clasped on the table. "Wanda Maximoff. Steven Rogers and James 'Bucky' Barnes. Anthony Stark and Virginia 'Pepper' Potts. All in that order."

"That order for what..?" She asked quietly after taking a moment to try think of it herself. That wasn't usually an order she heard her friends in for anything.

Maxim didn't reply as first but instead reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small remote control. With a click a screen turned on behind him, covering the entire wall.

Her heart sank.

"Every time you turn down this offer that's the order one of your friends gets a bullet through the head."

Her face fell as she watched the screen. It was through a scope lens, each shot looking like it would had she been lining up a rifle for a kill. He must have camera's attached to the marksmen stalking them. Each person had their own little square on screen and she saw her friends for the first time in months.

Clint was in a park - Lucky by his side and a crutch supporting him. How long had he been out of hospital? Wanda's apartment was next, a heat signature showing her sitting on a sofa. Bucky and Steve each had a square even though they were right beside each other - shopping bags in hand as they walked down a main street. Same again with Tony and Pepper - in a board meeting at Stark Tower.

She couldn't find words. She couldn't understand right now what she was seeing or what he was saying. Why hadn't they noticed people stalking them?

Maxim began to stand once more but she paid him no attention.

"And if you still refuse when all of them are dead, or you try any tricks my darling Widow - then we start taking out the kids right infront of you."

She looked to him at that, sending him a glare that she was positive could kill. He said that plan without even flinching, not even a slight hesitation in his words. He had become a monster and she could see no way of saving him.

"Because what use are untrained soldiers to my army?" He walked around the desk and past her - leaving her staring at the screen with some final words. "I look forward to hearing what you choose. I'm sure my snipers do too."

The door closed and locked and she only then allowed herself to choke out a startled breath. He hands had to support her weight on the desk because her mind was just going too crazy to keep her body upright.

'Look forward to hearing what you choose.'

Like there was a way to choose.

She'd have to do this. As much as she hated herself for even thinking of it, she had to accept it. Not only did she have a team to protect, but now a whole camp of kids depended on her too.

He left her with no choice. Left her with the news that all her friends and all the kids were marked for death if she 'chose' wrong.

He left her with no choice. And it made her sick.

She was going to work for the Red Room again.


	7. Chapter 7

Busy busy! Sorry sorry! But hopefully be able to write a little more now so enjoy!

Comments and yelling appreciated to kick my ass into gear!

Disclaimer; Lads.. I own nothing.. Stop reminding me of my failures in taking over Marvel, would you!?"

* * *

"I would have thought you'd escape by now.."

He wasn't wrong to assume that, let's be honest. He left Natasha in a fully stocked room. Maybe not with weapons – per say – but as good as. It was a well-known fact that, even if so far untested, if you threw her into a pit of vipers with just a paper clip then she'd walk out in ten minutes without a scratch and sporting a new pair of boots.

But not this time. Not a chance. It's not like she hadn't thought of escape, or found the afore mentioned paperclip and already had a million different plans on how to take down those in the base. It's not like she wasn't capable of bringing to memory all the maps Maxim showed her of all the bases and guessed where she was so she could plan a route.

She had all the means to escape, but she stood there twirling the paperclip in her hand with her eyes and attention solely focused on that screen he had previously shown to her.

Natasha loved her team. She could admit that with complete certainty and without any reservations about them knowing. But she could safely say – except for Clint who she's known for years – she had never once seen what they get up to in their spare personal time.

She never knew how close Steve and Bucky actually were or how the Super Soldier could make the Winter Soldier laugh and smile so easily. Never had it occurred to her that Pepper and Tony were – well – Pepper and Tony all the time. That he looked at her like she was everything in his life that made it worth living for until they were alone together. Never did she realise that Wanda spent so much time in her apartment alone, but even Clint managed to surprise Natasha by heading the young Maximoff's way with his dog in tow each and every day.

Knowing all this, knowing they weren't just heroes or the professional people that they were around each other. Knowing that they had lives and loved ones just made it difficult to think of putting their lives in danger more than needed.

Escaping would do that. And she just couldn't.

The snipers never seem to miss a beat and she wondered if that's what they actually were. They moved too fluidly, followed their targets too well to be a person.

Drone made more sense. One too small to be noticed but large enough to keep an eye and surely alert any sniper to their position all day every day.

She planned an escape. She knew she could escape. But when she really thought it out, was it really necessary?

He didn't lock her in, she was no longer confined, and she couldn't sense any guards outside the room while Maxim was gone.

She wasn't captive. That was worse.

She had a choice to leave or not to leave. She could walk out and return to her life if she so wished but he had given her that damn ultimatum that put these innocent heroes, these innocent people, her innocent friends in danger.

They deserved as long and as healthy a life as their profession allowed and the only way to ensure that would be for Natasha to stay and co-operate. She was giving up her life to save theirs. And she was fine with it.

She was only watching for 42 minutes, but that was enough time to realise that they deserved this happiness that was shown without her there to ruin it.

Barton raised his eyes for a moment and she could have sworn he looked right at her. She took that as her cue to sigh and finally answer Maxim.

"And miss the fun of finally killing you?" She replied dryly, turning to face him when Clint began hobbling into Wanda's building. "Now why would I do that?"

"I think I'd stay around for that too." He chuckled as he moved to sit behind the desk once more. She turned with his movements, not daring to take her eyes off him for a moment. "If you've decided then I think we should go through some facts and expectations."

He motioned for her to sit and Natasha didn't miss the smirk that made an appearance on him when she did just that. Like it or not – until she was certain the team no longer needed her protection – he was her boss and what he said goes. Well, within reason of course.

Natasha had plans already.

Maxim pressed a button to turn off the large screen showing her team before taking a folder from his top drawer and sliding it over to her. She didn't take it – she just stared him down instead.

"Inside is every operative we have and their stats." He pushed on when she didn't move, leaning forward closer to her with his hands clasped on the desk.

The shirt he was wearing beneath his tact vest showed some muscle she never really knew existed. Odd thing for any normal person to notice but when plotting to take down someone it's good to know – or at least have a guess at – how strong that person is.

"Here we have all ages. From, I think, 35 to-"

"Children." Natasha cut him off with a flat-matter-of-fact tone. It didn't matter their age – they were children and she hated that.

"Eight." He pushed on though she did notice how he shifted a little uncomfortably at her interruption.

Maybe there was something there she could exploit.

"All need some level of training. So, for now, I'd appreciate it if you could break them into skill groups and decide who needs what."

"I'm not going into this without some conditions of my own." She said. Simply. Sharply. No room for him to think of it as anything other than a demand on her part.

His lip twitched at the corner but besides that older than time tell sign from her former partner there was nothing to give away that he was surprised. He shouldn't be really. Not if Maxim knew her as well as she thought he did.

He leaned back in the chair with his hands behind his head. Her cue to continue.

"Proof every day that they're all alive." She started with a nod behind him, indicating to the space where her team was previously displayed. "Any one of them so much as scratched by your hand and I blow us all sky high in revenge."

"You lack faith in your team's ability, Natalia." Maxim sighed, causing her eyebrow to raise slightly as he began scribbling something on a piece of paper. "You seem so hell bent on protecting them all on your own. Do you really doubt they can hold their own?"

"Your employee nearly blew Hawk sky-high." She simply replied. She had to try her damn best to smother the anger that the memory of it brought up. "They can take anyone down in a fair fight. But not an ambush sniper hit like you have set up."

"Fair point." He hummed before slipping the page over to her. She glanced at it on the desk and saw nine numbers clearly written. "The code for the system here. You can check on them whenever you wish."

She shot him a disbelieving look. She really couldn't trust anything he said anymore. He must have known that because he turned the screen around and made a point to show her that he entered those nine numbers into the password box and the system happily unlocked itself.

"We need you, Natalia." He said with a smile. She didn't return it. "If this ensures it, then you can have complete and total access to the feeds. It doesn't seem like an unreasonable wanting!"

She watched him stand up and motion towards the door. "Come. I can show you around now if you're willing to accept!"

"That's not the only thing I want though." Her quiet comment had him frowning once more – anger flashing briefly across his eyes as she glared a hole through them. He nodded though and sat back down.

She really had shocked him with all this. But even when she 'willingly' joined SHIELD she sat down with Fury to lay out her conditions. So being forced to work here again would definitely warrant the same treatment.

"The force you have right now – everyone in this file here," she pushed on – a hand lying on top of the folder he had slid across her way. "Are you happy with having them as your team?"

"Well.." He sighed, shrugging in the most non-committal fashion as way of an aid to the answer. "I'm sure once they're trained to the standard I expect then they'll be perfect for me."

Towards the end his tone changed to one of reproach. He must have sensed the next part coming.

"Good!" She grinned, leaning back in the chair to mimic the same relaxed posture he had just moments ago. "Because that's it!"

"Come again, Romanoff?" He spat, eyebrows knitting together in a gloriously confused face.

"That's it!" She repeated with a shrug – as if it was supposed to be the simplest thing in the world to understand. "While I'm here there's to be no new recruits. None under the age of eighteen at least. I will play no part in ruining more kids' lives than you already have."

"You cannot be serious!" He rose to his feet with his tone rising along with him. She stood calmly to meet him eye for eye. "The children are the best assets we have! You know that!"

"And I promise to train them 110 percent.." She replied. Slowly she pushed the folder and paper across to him. "Those are my terms. You have two choices; accept and I'll personally see to the training of your people. Or reject, I'll leave, and being whatever Avengers are left standing and all of SHIELD to destroy each and every one of you."

She turned to walk out of the office – figuring he'd need some time to think it through. She didn't really know where she'd go if she left this office, but she didn't need to think about it too much. Before Natasha even reached the doorway a defeated 'fine' reached her ears.

She turned to see Maxim sinking back into his chair. "You're leaving me in a tight spot, Natalia.." He sighed with a shake of his head. "They're not going to be happy with it but I think losing you again and starting a war with two of the strongest forces I know would piss them off more."

 _Them._

 _So there was someone else he was answering to._

 _Noted._

"So it's a deal." Not a question. Statement. If she asked it then he'd find a way out of it.

He stared her down for a moment but she kept her face serious and stance impatient to make sure he made the decision quickly. Another sigh from Maxim let her know she won this particular fight and after he nodded she passed the space between them to grab the folder he was this time extending to her personally.

"Almost." Shit. His tone was quiet and serious but that smirk meant something else entirely. She stayed quiet to let him go on, folder under her arm securely. "In your time away is it safe to say you gathered a lot of intel on those interested in us staying dead?"

SHIELD.

They sent Clint for her, they conspired to take down the KGB and Red Room before either knew the thing even existed. Of course she knew everything worth knowing about them within the first year – or at least everything worth knowing about any place. Size, personnel, weapons, tactics, ideals, how to beat them and how to infiltrate. She knew it all in case she ever needed it – like when she learned of Hydra and had to use that knowledge to take them down with Steve.

Right now, as she gave a slight shrug in way of a reply, she really wished she didn't know a thing.

He nodded in understanding and hit a button to turn on the screen again, this time it was a simple world satellite map though. He remained quiet as he stood there – arms behind his back as he stared at the image. She couldn't decipher his face right now with his back to her and it pissed her off something fierce.

After almost a minute passed she was tempted to throw something at him to tell him to go on – but he complied regardless of physical abuse.

"What you're asking from me is to limit my resources." He started quietly. A hand gesture later in front of the screen and images of – she guessed – kids he was scouting appeared. He began deleting them one by one. "If I'm doing this then I need something to try maximise the chance of them all surviving."

"Is that not why I'm here bargaining?" She asked. He nodded and only turned to face her when all images were deleted. The serious look he held really didn't suit her old friend.

She'd have to get used to it though.

"I won't touch your friends – you can ensure that whenever you wish with 24 hours access to the network watching them. I won't recruit anyone under the legal age – no matter what happens to my troops."

She nodded her thanks and turned to leave to find a place to work. She turned back to him though in shock when he continued.

"You will train those here to Red Room and SHIELD standards."

She already knew that. But he was going on anyway.

"And to ensure that this organisation remains one step ahead of its enemies – you will compile a complete report on SHILED and The Avengers."

Dammit. That's a good one.

She frowned as he walked towards her – hand extended. "Deal?"

Did she really have a choice here?

Maxim was smart. Maybe he only wanted this file on her affiliates in case they made a move. He was way too smart to go after them, even if she gave him information completely compromising them. If she made this report as simple as simple could be so she could one day return not a full-fledged traitor and trained people to 'her' standards that may or may not have slipped over the years for all Maxim knew then she could save her team and save hundreds of kids the hell she endured.

Natasha nodded her agreement and shook his hand.

It was a simple and obvious choice and the arrangement seemed to have Maxim grinning now.

"Brilliant!" He cheered, clapping his free hand on her back before pulling her into step with him. "Let me show you the gym! Oh, and your office! I plan to have you as a high up here, Моя Вдова."

She sighed and spared a glance at the man next to her as they moved through the halls. The man who claimed her now, who considered her his widow. Her old partner, her old friend, her new enemy, her new boss..

What has she gotten herself in for?

* * *

They had promise. That's all she could really say.

There was something missing – but what she couldn't at all figure out and it was starting to piss her off.

She let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. Them not getting this simple sequence down had her more than pissed off actually.

The two weeks she's been here had been busy. First week she met with each person she was tasked with training and broke them into groups – 'Hopeless', 'Might be able to take her down while she's drunk and injured', and 'Shows something'.

This week she was working with the hopeless guys. No girls.

The kids were the only girls and she really didn't want to go there yet. This was the Sunday of the second week and they finally just about lived up to her strength expectations. So the ten worthless ones were in the gym with her for the past four days working through a simple take down.

Natasha sighed once more and took another sip from her vodka. She wasn't showing them again. There was no point.

She tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and looked back down at the file in her hands. She frowned slightly, the pen she held tapping gently against the page as she thought.

These were kids. There was no way to put them into groups other than 'Shouldn't be here', but she had to. There were 36 of them in total – 4 deemed too unfit to train so she forced the handlers to bring them to an orphanage and wouldn't let Maxim get any others for replacement.

36 she had to train.

Once upon a time she took a class with 53 SHIELD newbies, so it's not like she couldn't handle the size of the group. It's just that this was a delicate situation. The SHIELD guys came from battling backgrounds. Hell, if she wanted she could take all 80 adults here in the same class but she wouldn't until they were all somewhat around the same skill level.

But kids were different.

Kids shouldn't have skill levels. They shouldn't be training in the first place. So she had to approach this carefully.

She wouldn't scar them like this place did her. She wouldn't throw them into sink or swim matches with men 30 years their senior and 5 times their height. She wouldn't punish if things went wrong or destroy their worlds to be killers.

No.

She preferred the SHIELD way of doing things. The way Clint was trained and the way he showed her when they first took a group to teach together.

Creative and positive criticism. Teaching instead of punishing. Well, unless you catch a certain archer on a bad day after a fucked up mission and he spends the whole time shooting arrows at them to dodge.

But still, it was the way SHIELD agents learned, the way Clint learned, and he's possibly the strongest person she knows.

If it worked with him – when he was basically a child taken in by SHIELD – then it would work with these kids and give them a chance she never had before.

She just had to make sure Maxim never found out that his old ideal version of the Red Room wasn't going to happen.

Age.

That seems the only logical way of splitting these kids up.

So she went about the task while the men continued to nearly break each other's necks with 'take downs'.

"You don't socialise much, do you?" She looked up from where she was sitting even though she had already sensed him coming in.

She shrugged in his direction and looked back to the files as he moved to sit next to her.

"That part of this job too, sir?" She hoped every little bit of venom she intended to drip from the word did. The way Maxim chuckled next to her meant it worked.

"I wanted it like it was in the old days. But I guess, even then, you stayed mainly to yourself."

"Back then everyone was out to kill me." She simply replied. She spared a glance up when one 'thump' sounded especially painful. "If I socialised one of them would have killed me for my spot."

"Are these ones the worthless group?" He asked with a frown, somewhat hopeful she guessed. The ones involved with the painful sounding thump were shoving each other now.

It made her realised what that 'something' was that they were missing.

Team work.

Sure, she never had it before. But after being with SHIELD and the Avengers, she realised it was that lack of teamwork that made the Red Room and KGB such a failed mission. If she was honest, maybe even back then her most successful missions involved it. Unfortunately with the man forcing her to teach these hopeless clowns.

Team work. That would be something crazy to try work on and she didn't know if she even wanted to go near it with a ten foot pole.

She could feel Maxim staring at her. "Aren't you going to stop that? Your men.."

"Builds character." She shrugged. She took her drink and filled it up some more from the bottle resting on the bench beside her. "If they can't handle a little scuffle between each other then they won't last a second in the field."

"I suppose." He hummed. She looked back to her files when she realised all the others around the gym were gathering around the fighting pair. It would do them good.

She was sure of that. Even the more expert guys needed teamwork skills, so maybe seeing the hopeless ones fighting each other will make them realise it never amounts to anything and she won't have to properly teach them that.

It's like when Tony and Steve butt heads and they have to convince Bruce to just let them at it. Get rid of tension and they'll be fine in no time.

"But that looks like a little more than a scuffle." Maxim's quick voice made her pause mid sip and look up.

She frowned when she noticed the bigger and uglier of the pair holding a knife and going for the stab anywhere he could.

 _Amateur._

Maxim was just about to shout at them, already up on his feet and with that red face that let her know he was sick of shit already, but she beat him to it.

She let out a long and sharp whistle sound, causing everyone – even Maxim next to her – to jump and look her way.

As graceful as ever she rose, took a sip of her drink, and walked with glass in hand towards the crowd.

"Break it up, ladies." She said, pushing aside some men to look the two fighting up and down. They had stopped, but the big guy still twirled the knife in his hand. Like it was to impress her. Clint did that alot more gracefully in his sleep sometimes - nothing new.

He was glaring at her and she definitely had to admire that! Because the other one held a respectable amount of fear in his eyes.

"Get out of here." The big guy spat. His accent was thick, English broken. Maybe he didn't know her after all – didn't realise that she could speak Russian just fine. His next sentence solidified that theory. "It is bad enough that you are here. But never will I take orders from a маленькая шлюха." Some of the guys gathered snickered, others – including her former partner – gasped in proper horror at the name.

Natasha found herself grinning. Maybe she should have properly introduced herself at the big meeting rather than assuming they all knew her. Some didn't and it seemed like she'd have to teach them. Especially him for that 'little whore' comment. Language like that should not be used around a lady!

"Natalia, не делайте этого." Maxim called from back over by the benches, but she ignored him. Like she wouldn't do it, come on! It's like he didn't know her!

She took a step closer to the funny man and took a careful sip of her drink. This would be fun, she could feel it.

"You're right, I'm sorry. What do I call you, big boy?" She practically purred the words. He smirked a little but she found a lot more pleasure in hearing the defeated groan from Maxim.

"Sir would be good." He said with a hum, head tilted slightly. As if he won already. "But whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Well, присоски петух.." Cock sucker. Not graceful in the slightest but it worked at riling him up. She stepped away from the asshole and sauntered towards the training mats in the far corner of the room. "You don't want to take orders? Fine." She called as she walked before turning to look at him.

They were all staring at her as she stood in the middle of the mats, and now she could actually feel amusement coming from Maxim rather than fear that she was about to kill all of them for pissing her off.

"Fight me. You win then I leave and you can take over, even order me around if you want. I win and another word is never to be uttered from that присоски петух mouth of yours while I'm here. It just makes everyone around you grow more stupid and I don't want that in my ranks."

A few snickers broke out and the asshole scowled even more. He didn't move though so she raised an eyebrow and turned her back to him.

"You can keep the knife if you're scared." That did it. She couldn't see him, but she didn't need to. He was loud enough rushing over to her.

She took a sip from her drink as she turned to side step his rush, causing him to slam into the wall she was facing. Must have been a good knife, didn't shatter as it went first into the concrete.

 _Taking that as a prize when finished.._

"I guess you guys can consider this your lesson for the day." She said to the remaining troops in front of her, one hand behind her back to keep sense of the man regrouping behind her. "Just because an opponent's back is to you doesn't mean they can't see you. Hell.." She paused in her speech to move to the side once more, sticking her foot out in the process to trip her bulky attacker up. He face planted the mat as his weapon went tumbling from his hands.

She took another sip with a hum of disappointment before she continued.

"We know one guy in New York completely blind but he could kill all of you without breaking a sweat."

A chatter broke out at that comment and she took the time to take the step over to where the man lay on the ground. She placed her boot on his head to keep him down while leaning down to take the knife and pocket it in her tact vest.

"I'm here to get you guys to a defending standard. Because right now.." Natasha used the foot pinning him to push his slightly raised head hard into the mat. He went limp in a second. "I can beat you guys up without spilling a drop of my vodka. Gosh, embarrassing huh?"

She downed her drink as if to reinforce that point before dropping it to shatter on the unconscious man's head.

Natasha didn't even give him a second look as she moved towards the door. "And I'm not even the strongest one out there. Anyone wants to challenge me again, I'll be taking a nap. Dismissed."

She hated these people already.

* * *

For being a world renowned assassin and possibly the most difficult spy to track in the world; Clint seemed to be a creature of habit.

She didn't know how she missed it all these years but now that she had nothing better to do in the evenings other than make sure the team was still ok Natasha figured him out.

It was Sunday afternoon over there now. The third Sunday she's sat in front of this screen at 10pm watching each member, but it was Clint she found to be most interesting. Right on cue he walked out of his apartment complex with Lucky on leash. He pulled his jacket up over his neck to fight the cold and began walking.

Park then Wanda's – she'd bet anything on it.

She took one more look at her team to ensure that all were ok before spinning the chair back around and working on the plan for the next class. After the display with the ass earlier she decided that they need some tough as fuck training to make sure she doesn't need to send one of them to medical each week.

He walked in, but Natasha didn't bother look up or acknowledge him. It was Maxim's office after all, so obviously he'd show up sooner or later. It just seemed that the past while he's been giving her the space each time she came in to see her team safe and sound.

"Those cameras, Natalia.." He started with a sigh. She heard a bottle hit the desk and the clanking of glasses before Maxim sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "They only turn on when that programme is booted up. I've had to change the batteries five times this week alone and they're not cheap.."

"Remind me to power it up more often then, sir." She said with a shrug. She passed over a sheet of paper with the plan she was meant to give him hours ago. She raised an eyebrow when a glass of whiskey was placed in front of her. Glancing at him finally had her noticing that he was finally in some civilian clothes – the old Maxim she knew shining through, messy hair and all. He was sitting back in the chair and sipping from his own glass as he scanned through the plan.

Flashbacks of abandoned warehouses with crappy fires flashed across her eyes. Of dust and bugs, of never having enough to eat but always having enough to drink. Of Maxim smiling as he handed over the last cracker, insisting he wasn't hungry and she should have it..

To clear those memories she had to shake her head quickly. This wasn't Maxim anymore.

"You have to stop calling me that. Makes me sound old." He chuckled. "Kind of miss the nicknames, even as horrible as they sometimes were.."

"Heat of the moment in battles can't be counted." She shrugged once more before taking a sip of the drink. She turned then with her back to him so she could once again watch her team on the big screen. "Once called Tony a beetle-shit when he wouldn't reply to me. Not just you I made them up for."

"Here I thought I was special." He sighed. She wanted him gone. She wanted him gone but she wanted him back, she wanted to punch his lights out but wanted to spar with him, she wanted to kill him, to save him, to tell him to fuck off, to tell him to come back.

She wanted her old friend back. But this wasn't him. This wouldn't work. And what was worse was he was trying to make it.

Wanda left her building and Natasha found herself frowning a little bit. She seemed in a hurry. Not in a run kind of way, but walking pretty quickly. She glanced at Steve's monitor and saw the heat signature of his apartment. He was frantically moving around, things being thrown into bags from the looks of it. There must have been an Avenger's call out. All of them were on a rush, bar Clint, who just threw the ball once more for Lucky and watched as he chased after it. He's still injured and wouldn't be called in.

"This is good." Maxim's comment pulled her from the thoughts swimming in her mind. She turned to face him once again, just as he put the plan down on the desk. "But I think we need to talk."

"The asshole had it coming and you know he did." She sighed. She was expecting this, waiting all evening for him to come and give her some for her actions. She took the bottle of whiskey and filled up her glass once more. "I won't teach him anymore if he's being a baby about it."

"No, no.. That was actually really entertaining and I applaud you for it." He chuckled. But he very quickly turned serious and leaned in a little closer. "Natalia.. There aren't just the men here for training but you're yet to as much as talk to the others."

 _The others._

 _The children._

Yes, she was avoiding them. Yes, she was more focusing on the adults because they're the ones who should be fighting. Yes, she knew he'd cop on. No, she didn't think it would be this soon.

She sighed and looked away once more, not willing to meet his gaze.

"Well I need to get these idiots up to speed.."

"Not as much as you need the girls to." He cut her off. It made her down her drink in one and go to pour another. His hand on the bottle stopped her and made her look to him with a frown. "Look, I know you don't want to do this, and I've tried ignore it as best as I could. But the other higher ups are getting impatient and.. Well.."

"They don't trust me." She finished for him. He nodded. She figured as much seeing as how the ones he keeps talking about refuse to even speak to her on the phone and just give their orders through Maxim. She's yet to even get a name of them off him, which is annoying because now she knows they exist they're also on her list.

"I'll get around to it next week." Natasha said carefully, not giving a date, not giving a time. Not giving anything.

And she guessed that's what pushed him over the edge because, rather than the usual calm and understanding gaze he held nearly always, she was met with a hard and cold glare as he ripped the bottle from her.

"Tomorrow." He snapped. She found herself grinning just the slightest at his annoyance. "We've been patient enough, Natalia. Any one of us could train the adults, we just gave you them because we know you like to whip them into shape and hurt them a little. It's the kids we brought you in here for."

"We had a deal. You never said when I had to train them just that I had to train them." She shrugged. Sure, she was annoyed she was caught out before she could finish the plan of escaping with all of them, but sometimes these things happen.

"We had a deal, you're right!" He yelled, standing then to walk around the desk to her. Natasha took a defensive pose when he pulled the chair around to the screen behind her, but subtle enough to make sure he didn't know he had got to her. "You do what you said you would or they get it! You train those kids, you make sure they're up to standard, you make us some soldiers we can use!"

"Like me?" She said through gritted teeth, standing up to meet him face to face. "Like Alisa? What is it - you want me doing to them what was done to her?"

It worked. It always worked. Bringing up his little sister and her time spent here always made him falter and meant that any battle between them was swayed in her favour.

"Don't you dare." He growled, but he had paled and took a step back before then which gave her the chance to advance on him instead.

"Tomorrow, I'll do it." She shrugged, walking around the desk with him backing off with each step. Her words were cold, calculated, lacking any emotion at all because that's what he wanted. He wan't the Black Widow so he had to see what that meant. "I'll make them fight each other until bones are broken and teeth are out. I'll make them ballet until their ankles swell and knees buckle. I'll send asshole into their rooms at night to fight to ensure that they're ready for any attack. I'll grade them, I'll sort them, I'll dispose of the weak ones and keep the strong to have a battle royal. And you know what? Most of them will fail and be buried six feet deep outside like Alisa was because that's how you want it and-"

"Enough!" Maxim finally yelled, and she could honestly say she was shocked by the punch to her jaw. Her head snapped painfully to the side with it but in an instant she was back to normal and smirking at him. He realised he fucked up. It might have taken a moment of deep breaths and clenched fists but his eyes soon went wide and mouth formed an 'o' shape when he copped on.

"You're not in charge really, are you?" She asked, her head tilting a little. She could taste blood – he had split her lip. "If you were then you wouldn't freak out at the details. You wouldn't tell me to stop. You know all this, it's what you want, or at least what whoever's in charge wants. Give me names. We can stop them, stop this. There's still time."

"I'm in charge." He growled before turning to go lock the door. This wasn't good. "It can't be like it was because you can't kill any of them. The deal says I can't get more, right?"

She watched as he turned back to face her, his face stoic and calm once more. It was the Black Widow mask, what they were taught as kids. Natasha's little stunt ignited something and she wasn't sure she'd like what it was.

"You're going to sit your ass down right now and make a plan for these kids."

"And if I don't?" She asked with a delicate eyebrow raise. He didn't reply right away, instead he moved past her to sit at the desk. She watched as he dialled something in to the computer and a call connecting sound began.

"Sir?" A voice came through a moment later, one she didn't recognise. But she did recognise the sound of a busy street.

"Warning shot." Maxim said sternly, not taking his eyes off of her as he spoke. Natasha was confused, she'd admit that, but a moment later she heard the familiar click of a rifle safety and watched the screen behind the desk in horror.

A half second later there was a sound of a shot discharging and the screen showed a bullet ricochet off the wall of Steve's apartment. Rogers had noticed it, because in true soldier style the thermal showed him tuck and roll down behind the wall by the window – enough for protection but also enough to peek out if needed.

The line went dead as did the screen and Natasha sent a glare Maxim's way.

"You idiot!" She hissed, walking over to slam her hands on the desk. "Now he knows someone's after him! After them! You think your men will survive now?"

"It doesn't matter." He shrugged, passing her over a pad of paper and a pen then. Why would he say that? Of course it mattered! "Either you plan this out and get training tonight or your team won't last until the morning. Deal's off."

She growled and reluctantly nodded her head before falling into the chair and setting about breaking these kids into groups.

Under Maxim's watchful gaze she began selling her soul entirely to save her team.

And they'd never even know.


	8. Chapter 8

So I can't type that much anymore. This chapter took me literally nearly 2 months of daily typing until my arm got too sore to write anymore. So when I say it'll be slow, it'll be SLOW! But I never give up stories! :)

Disclaimer; I DISCLAIM!

* * *

Honestly, you could say it was like any normal person and sex - you could never forget you first time.

The comparison didn't really end there though. Some find it uncomfortable, some natural. Some willingly, some not so. Some people find a thrill for it and know that they would jump at the opportunity to do it again, others realise that it really isn't for them and wouldn't even dream of doing it again unless the right person came along.

It gave a thrill, a bounce, it was considered a sin but people don't care.

Could still be talking about sex, right?

The first time killing someone is the exact same as what's described there.

Natasha wasn't proud of her first time, but she could hand on heart say that she remembers that event much more clearly than the first time she ever fucked someone.

Some people are actually proud of their first kill, brag about it, shout about it, use it as a party story, or quietly over a scotch on the rocks in a dark corner when the nights get too heavy.

Her team mates were like that. Some of them anyway. Thor gladly tells of the conquest of some realm she would never be able to pronounce not let alone remember the name of. His eyes would light up as he re-enacted the long battle that waged between the two forces. Asgard 'burdened with the noble and honorable duty' of protecting a small village in the other realm after it received threats from wandering ravengers - the space version of pirates as Clint would say. Lady Sif and the warriors three along side the prince of Asgard ensured that no harm fell upon the village.

Thor took his first life by letting Mjolnir fly its way to cracking a ravengers skull. While sometimes he admits remorse, other times he gladly tells of his heroics that day and about the many lives he must have saved with that one act.

Noble. Honourable. Heroic. Natasha finds no reason to disagree with that synopsis at all.

Steve was alot harder to convince that his first kill was nothing short of heroic. Firstly it took forever to drag the story out of him, but one mission after they were trapped underground for a few days and delirious with hunger, exhaustion, and just plain crushed spirits - he told the tale to Clint and Natasha to pass the time.

Back in the 40's, the first mission he ever took as Captain America. The 107th were captured, most feared dead, including one James Buchanan Barnes. Naturally, this didn't sit well with the Star Spangled Man and he single handed - though he always says it wouldn't have been possible without Peggy and Howard - stormed through enemy lines to rescue over 100 prisoners of war and save his best friend from horrendous torture.

About a mile into his on foot march he came across his first set of troops. While he was all prepared to stealth past them, he was spotted against the landscape easily with the shield on his back. He never meant to kill the man, the remaining soldier when his comrade was knocked out, but with a gun trained right at Steve's head he acted on instincts and knocked the shield right against the mans skull.

Blunt force trauma had him dead in no time. And unfortunately - according to Steve that's the word to use anyway - that wasn't the only kill of that mission. Necessary though. Otherwise they would have stopped the legend of Captain America dead in it's tracks before it even began and alot of good men would have died as prisoners.

Necessary. Heroic. Absolutely 100% the right thing to do. Romanoff couldn't fault a single thing about it.

She never got the story of Tony's. From him, at least. It was a well known story how he escaped that cave, and it's safe to assume that his first kill was then and there. Not something he ever likes talking about, but it's something that was needed to survive. He mightn't be proud of it - but it was ok.

In Clint's and Natasha's world - the first kill is usually something alot less morally right. Grey, more like. It could be right and it could be wrong depending on what side you're standing on. Clint's is classified, but she's heard it enough times. His was a SHIELD mission and he beat himself up over it for months. That's since gone away.

In this job you can't be afraid or ashamed of killing.

Natasha's wasn't as morally right or heroic or necessary for that matter.

She killed because she was told to, because she was a killer, because to be the best assassin in the world you had to take a life and that always had a first step.

The morning of that day told her in an instant that it wouldn't be like any other. The handlers were.. Well, by the Red Room's standards, nice to her in the morning time. While the other girls in the room were ordered to the gym to practice and run drills, she was brought down to the bathhouse to soak for a while. Her hair was washed, cut, and styled in a way that made her look younger than her 16 years.

"This is an important day, Natalia.." Head Mistress told her as she brushed Natasha's hair. "This will shape your future.. So please do not disappoint.."

That stuck in her mind all morning, as she ate the first bowl of warm porridge she could ever remember having, as she dressed herself in the new and freshly washed combat version of their usual uniforms, as she was brought down to the training room it was all she could think about. She was told the day before that she had some kind of graduation coming up, that it was important, that it was something she had to go through to pass through the place.

She just never thought it would be so soon. Natasha didn't know if she would be ready and, as the doors to the training room on the basement level opened up, her stomach began doing flips.

She knew the scene, back from way back in the day when she was first brought back into this group. There were a number of people in the room, all lining the walls, all looking way too serious for them just to be trainers. A number of men in tracksuits she recognised as trainers of hers and the other kids from her group. Then there were some other men littered around the place, all in suits, all looking on with interest that Natasha found way too intimidating for her age. It was the new girls that gave it all away, the look of innocence still in their eyes, the light still shining - even if it did look a little terrified right now.

These were the new recruits, the new generation of Red Room assassins. These were the new kids that were going to watch just what it meant to be a Red Room agent and what would be required of them by the end of it.

She stepped into the middle of the room after a gentle shove from the handler who brought her here, and a moment later two pistols were placed in her hands. Both had one shot alone - she checked. It was do or die. She had to make them perfect.

"Gentleman. This is Natalia. Sixteen. Natalia, these men would like to see exactly what their money is going into. So if you'd please.."

It was the nice woman's voice who helped her through the morning that was speaking, but she couldn't see her. All that she could see was the doors on the other end of the room open up and a pair of track suited trainers dragging in a man tied up to a chair.

Her test.

Her exam.

Her first kill.

That was nothing to be proud of. Even if it did get her out of that god forsaken place in the end.

"Romanoff?" She snapped out of her daydreams at the call of her voice - sharp and impatient, more so than usual. Let her know that it wasn't the first time the man called her name.

She looked over from the wall she was currently against to see Volkov staring her way, the set of girls they were training forming a line behind him. She stuck to her word, she trained the girls in the fighting techniques SHIELD taught to her, Barton taught to her. The techniques they'd be coming up against. Volkov hated it more than anything but he had to get used to it.

This group was the older group, the girls who had some kind of idea what was going on and who were already in the system for a while. To say they were skilled would be a little far to go. It was obvious that whoever was in charge of their training until now lacked a certain finesse. Natasha would guess that Volkov was previously behind it because they showed a careless and aggressive side. She took a week training that out of them, instead teaching them the fine and subtle movements that made her so deadly in the field.

"Run it until they get it perfect." She answered his unasked question because she knew it was coming. He asked her each and every time the girls finished the drill if they could move on, and her answer was always the same.

"They can take down the men, Romanoff." He sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair. "It's done. We're moving on to targets."

"I'm sorry. Who's in charge here?" She spat back. She could see him tense his jaw in annoyance, and it did succeed in giving her a little sense of pride. "Thought I was alright. Run it again until they land perfectly after the take down. If they don't they leave themselves open to a counter attack while trying to gather themselves up off the floor."

"I suppose-" He started with a locked jaw.

"Don't 'suppose'. I am right. End of story." She cut him off before he could finish. She was putting him down infront of his men. The kids were Natasha's, the recruits were hers, the trainers were his, and she was probably going to get in hell for it. But she couldn't let these girls go out into the world of war - a war their innocent minds shouldn't even know exists - without being one hundred percent prepared. "So run it again until the last take down lands them in a crouch or I'll take you down myself, got it shit head?"

"Yes ma'am." It was said in such a begrudging way that Natasha loved more than anything in the world.

The girls were perfect little soldiers - which was the most terrifying thought to ever cross her mind. She didn't watch them again, she knew it might take a little while to get right, so instead she let herself get lost in the plans that have been running through her mind for the past week.

These girls could help take down guards if they were caught in a surprise attack, maybe the skill group under them too if Natasha taught them an advanced manoeuvre tomorrow. Then all of them together could get the younger girls out of here and to safety before anyone noticed. Get to a phone, get word to Clint or Steve or whatever number is still active for them to warn them of what would happen when she as found out, then go back and blow them all up sky high so there'd be nothing of this organisation left.

There were secret tunnels in and out of this place. She remembered a few from the blue prints when they were planning the raid on the place. There were tunnels that interlocked with other tunnels and while she was confident they all lead to safely she couldn't be certain. She'd have to find the prints again, next time she was in Maxim's office, just to make sure they could exit with no fear of being caught.

She'd get them out of here.

Otherwise she'd never forgive herself.

* * *

Not once in her life has she ever had an office. She really didn't know what to do with it.

There was a time when Clint was really injured that he was put on desk duty for over a year. To keep him somewhat sane Fury gave him an office that he could decorate and roll around in on one of the office chairs and basically not annoy any of the other agents who had proper important desk jobs. She hung out there more times than not, just because being alone never suited Clint, and he had a damn comfortable sofa installed that may or may not have been smuggled in under everyone's noses one night by the pair.

But besides that she always did paperwork in cramped hallways or in a training room. Always with the paperwork or laptop or whatever she was writing on balanced on her knee. It got to a point where even if she was in a conference room with the Avengers for meeting or SHIELD for debriefings and she had to take notes or sign something she'd still push away from the desk and write in on her knee. Clint was the same, though he always stood and leaned the page against a wall or sat cross legged on the floor.

Having an office was odd. She didn't know what to do with it. She had a desk and a chair, she had a computer on the desk, she had a sofa and seats for visitors and even a little plant in the corner. It made things too real, made them too normal, it made her feel a part of this organisation and that was the last thing she wanted.

Still though, it felt right. This was what she was supposed to be. She was meant to grow up in the Red Room, she was meant to go on and kill for them, capture and seduce for them. She was meant to become one of the best in their name and then go on to teach the next generations to be the same. She was meant to have this rank, this position, this office. She was meant to stay married in the business, married to the business, but if she was then really she wouldn't be here at all right now. She'd be dead and buried in an unmarked grave with the rest of them long ago.

The song she had playing ended, and nothing followed. It was the end of the little playlist she had built on YouTube, so she restarted, soft swing music filling the office once more before she clicked back into the tab to write up the latest report of training's progress.

"You never struck me for the classic type, Natalia." Maxim always chose the worst moments to show up. She glanced from the monitor to see him standing in her doorway, arms folded and a smirk on his face. "Or music at all for that matter."

She looked back to the screen.

Swing music always filled the tower. Well, the floor with their rooms anyway. Steve played it from his room, and hers was just enough distance away to hear it clear as day. That and the country music she'd catch Clint singing from time to time. Thank God Tony only played music in his lab so she didn't have to add AC/DC into that already odd mix of music.

She found that it helped her focus. It became normal when she'd go to her room to relax with a book or try do a little work to hear the soft melodies drift through her walls. It was just always part of her day now, something to make her feel like she had some control over things.

"Helps me focus." Natasha shrugged. She wouldn't tell him the real reason. He'd use it against her. "You never visit unless I did something wrong or you need something."

She looked up to see and shocked expression cross his face for just the briefest of moments. She knew him by now.

"Been over two weeks since you've even looked my way." She shrugged once again - as if it were obvious how she knew. "The last time you needed me to do something. So what is it this time, sir?"

"Maxim." He corrected softly, like he did every time that she called him 'sir'. But they weren't friends, they'd never be friends again, no way she was calling him that. He crossed the floor to take a seat opposite her, leaning back in the chair. "I've been busy. Miss me?"

"As if." She scoffed. She made a point to keep her eyes on the computer screen rather than even look his way. "It was nice and peaceful actually. I better not be in trouble, not with how much work I've actually been doing. Your girls can now all take down an attacker in three easy steps."

"I know." He sounded pleased, but then again why wouldn't he be. "I was sent the medical bill for the men they hurt."

That earned him a grin and a wink from her. If he wasn't here to give out or ask another ridiculous favour then she felt a little more at ease. So she mimicked his relaxed posture and watched him to continue on with why he was actually here.

"We got word from the higher ups.." He kept mentioning them. More and more lately. She narrowed her eyes in silent question, but like every single other time he refused to answer who they actually were. "They want three by Friday."

"Three what?" She asked. Her expression changed the instant he looked down to his twiddling thumbs, and she knew it went to complete fury. "No."

"Natalia listen-"

"No!" She spat firmer, hands slamming on the desk to enforce her point. "I made it perfectly clear that this wasn't going to be like before. We're doing things differently."

"Oh come on Natalia, this can't be done differently." He sighed. He had a weary look, tired. Was he preparing himself for this fight? "They're going out to fight, to kill, they need to know that it can be done."

"I'm not sending those girls to kill anyone yet. Not without even knowing who 'they' are." She was quiet, leaning over the desk to get a little closer. But something about her words seemed to light something deep within Maxim.

"Either you bring them or we bring them. Either way it's happening and I need your opinion on the three best girls so we don't fuck this up!"

"Let it get fucked up!" She yelled with her arms thrown in the air. "Let them fuck up, let them fail, let the bastards running this show shut it down for all I care!"

"Dammit you stubborn bitch! If they fail they're dead!" He was just as loud, red faced as anger took him over and sent him to his feet. "All of them! They're all killed and new ones are brought in to try again! Don't you get it!? I'm trying to fucking save them!"

Alisa.

That's exactly what happened to her batch.

She remembers the stories of his little sister's groups demise, but thought they were just that - stories.

She was taken a back, rattled by his outburst, and she practically sunk into the chair to think it over.

All of them killed if they fuck up. If the higher ups don't think this is working all of those girls will be killed. She has three or four who could make the shot, who could take someone out no problem, but she really didn't want to.

"Look.." He sighed when neither spoke for a minute or two. She was staring at the desk, but could hear him fall back down into his own chair. "We just need to get through this one test. It's not a final one, the girls will be given right back, but they don't trust you and want to make sure that-"

"We need to get them out." She whispered. She looked up his way when no reply was given to find him watching curiously for her next words. "Maxim, we could do it. We can get them out tonight and bring them to the U.S. We could save them. I know you care about them, I know you don't want them killed, we could-"

"We couldn't." He shot back. If she could she would have deflated more, because that definitely isn't what she wanted to hear. What did she think she'd hear? An agreement? An attempt to join in the plan of heroics? No. Instead she got a complete shoot down and that serious face he seemed to put on when she fucked up in his eyes. "You made a deal, Widow. You're to train them. I might not like that they're coming so soon, but dammit I need an army and I'm not letting you get in the way of that."

"You don't care about them at all.." She whispered in shock. No, he didn't care that they'd be killed because they're innocent children who shouldn't even be here. Not a chance. "You only care because the second they're killed you're not allowed get anymore thanks to me.."

"They don't know I made that deal and I'd like to keep it that way.." He sighed. He took to his feet then. "Get me the names by tomorrow. I have the tests-"

"Innocent people about to be executed for no reason." She corrected. His jaw locked and hands went behind his back. His 'I'm pissed off but know better than to mess with you' stance.

"I have the tests ready." He continued like she hadn't even said anything. "Hurt enough that even a non fatal shot should send them on their way."

"You distrust me that much?" She asked with an eyebrow raised. She taught the girls to shoot, after Volkov insisted so much. They could hit a target no problem.

"I distrust kids that much." He shrugged, heading for the door then. "You may not trust me anymore, Natalia. But I trust you with all my heart and soul to do everything you can to help those girls. And your team."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her team? She was keeping them safe by still being in this god forsaken place.

"Simple. We had a deal. If they fail then your end of the deal is void." He explained calmly, his back to her. She could see his hands clenching around each other as he spoke. "The second they fail, the second they're killed, all your friends will be goners."

Shit.

He left before she could reply, closing the door behind him so that the mug she threw his way hit the wood and shattered instead of doing so against his head. With a frustrated growl she stood and paced the room.

There had to be a way out of this. Her plan of escape was one way, but now she made the rookie mistake of trusting him enough to tell him that it was even on her mind. He'd be watching her like a hawk, that would be certain.

Trust.

 _"I trust you with all my heart and soul.."_

A small smirk crossed her face as a different plan formed.

He trusted her.

Big mistake.

* * *

There wasn't much time at all to completely work the plan out in her mind. Just as quickly as it had jumped into view, it was time to act upon it.

There were plenty of times in the past when that was the case and the results always varied. Some ended just as well as if she had say planning meticulously over every single detail for days on end while there were others - more than she'd care to admit - that would end in complete catastrophe.

Natasha hoped that this case would be one of the former.

She had to give Maxim the names she had chosen by this evening. That was the deal. So she thought about it all night and all morning and finally narrowed it down. That afternoon at training she pulled the three girls aside and explained the situation in as simple and easy terms she could think of. She avoided words like 'Kill' or 'Assassinate' in case it scared them off. Honestly, it would scare any child off to hear they were being asked to commit such things.

It did earn a choked laugh from Volkov when the term 'Live target practice' left her lips. Sounded ridiculous even to her ears but anything sounded better than 'Killing someone as a test of skill.'.

The girls, to credit their character and innocence, took the news in their stride and actually looked excited as they went off with Volkov to practice.

Only way to ensure success. Practice shooting all day until they could physically shoot no more.

Natasha couldn't even tell you what they did during their hour long training that day with the other kids. Her mind, expectantly and understandably, was with those three young girls about to change their lives forever.

That got Volkov out of the way for a while at least. She couldn't have him around while she tried pull things off.

The next part required something that Natasha thankfully had an abundance of at her disposal. Over the time she's been here, the past couple of months, she had gathered an impressive collection of alcohol in her quarters. She needed it.

It got her through the bad days - when she realised what she was actually doing by helping these people, what life she was subjecting these children to, what life she was now living herself. It got her through the days when she sat there like an outsider looking in on her team - their laughs and jokes, their conversations and quiet moments, all of them she couldn't hear. She could just see, see them getting on with life, see them being happy, see them living like she so wished she could.

Alcohol helped. And she was glad she could get so much.

Natasha wasn't sure if anyone else was allowed some. She never did see anyone else drinking. Only water and milk existed in the canteen area of the compound, not even any juice for the kids because there was sugar in it. Sometimes as a treat Maxim would bring in some freshly squeezed orange juice for them all.

But she was allowed some. She was encouraged as far as she could tell. Maybe twice a week an employee would arrive at her door with a bottle of Vodka from Maxim - not the cheap Americanised bottle of piss stuff she's gotten used to either, no. This was the proper strength Russian stuff. It was amazing and just as she remembered and just in case the gifts one day stopped she had learned to save some each week.

That's how she found herself as was now - a bottle of one of the stronger vodka's carefully tucked under her arm while her hand held two glasses. The dimly lit corridors that lead to Maxim's quarters were completely empty, not unusual for this time of evening here. The echo of the soft raps she gave his door bouncing back her way just solidified how utterly empty this place really was.

Around this time everyone would be either winding down for the night or already in bed, with all the kids having been tucked in and lights off for over an hour already.

Maxim had said he trusted her. Natasha was going to make sure that he knew that was the worst mistake he ever made.

A shuffling was heard from the other side of the door for a moment or two before if finally and suddenly swung open.

It was the first time since coming here that Natasha could recall seeing her old friend in anything other than his tact gear. It felt like she was never out of the damn thing - with just a pair of pyjamas and a set of training gear being the only other clothes she kept here.

Yet here he was in a button down shirt and some jeans, hair no longer slicked back but instead standing up in all directions. He looked utterly shell shocked to see her there, but the expression mixed with his casual appearance just made her smile in a way she hasn't in a while.

This was the Maxim she remembered. This would make tonight's plans a hell of alot easier.

"Natalia.." He let out in a shocked whisper, poking his head out to look up and down the hall for a moment before looking back at her. "What are you doing here? You're to message and meet me in my office."

"For business, yeah." She started with a shrug before taking the bottle from under her arm and holding it up to him with a smile. "But how about for an old friend wanting a drink? Wanting to apologise?"

He didn't believe her. Why would Natasha apologise? In all their years together she not once did, and the narrowing of his eyes let her know that he was thinking it too.

So she shrugged.

"I was a bitch." She admitted softly, casting her gaze down to the ground. "I made a deal and I tried worm out of it. I am sorry, you know I keep my word and I feel bad for blowing up at you."

Maxim took a moment to consider her words, but she expected as much. She shuffled on her feet for a moment, giving one last sigh then and making like she was going to walk away before she felt a hand on her elbow.

When she looked up she saw Maxim giving her a warm smile. She had him.

"I suppose one drink won't hurt.." He finally said, and she put on a grin for him before letting him lead her into the room.

It was a hell of alot better than hers, and Natasha found herself kind of jealous of the fact! There was a king sized bed in the corner - looking like heaven compared to the single bunk she's been sleeping in. A desk sat against the wall a little away from it with a sofa on the opposite side. And when she looked to the left to see where Maxim was bringing the alcohol she found him going towards a little kitchen area.

He had it nice here! A door over by the side was just about opened showing the edge of a bathtub. If she wasn't on mission she'd consider asking him for a go of it.

"Volkov gave me the names of the girls you chose." Maxim said as he poured the drinks. She rolled her eyes and made her way over towards the sofa. The cushions sank a little as she sat and she found herself letting out a relaxed sigh. "I have to say; I couldn't agree more wit the choice. They should do fine tomorrow."

"Please, Maxim.." How long had it been since his name left her lips? Felt foreign, like it shouldn't be said to him anymore. "No business. I just want a drink with my friend, ok?"

"A drink with your friend.." He repeated softly, the words testing on his tongue. He came over and passed her a glass of drink before sitting next to her with a grin. "I can do that."

* * *

She really couldn't tell how many drinks 'one' turned into. All she could tell was two hours after she had arrived at Maxim's room the bottle she brought with was gone and they had started on one that he had stored away in a cabinet.

Natasha was going slow, but Maxim seemed to be going hell for leather and she had to hold back her grin as once again he stumbled over to the couch from the kitchen with two more glasses.

Their conversation topics ranged like nothing else. From missions to training then love and life. He told her about all the missions he took while still part of this organisation, she told him about assassinations and meeting the Avengers. They spoke of friends, of lovers, of everything they needed to catch up on. Until one moment half way through the third hour - approaching 1am - Maxim suddenly stopped laughing at the memory of the pair of them accidentally castrating one of their trainers.

Natasha watched curiously as a frown appeared on his face and his eyes glues themselves to his drink. This was exactly the level of drunk she needed from him.

His serious thoughtful level.

"Did you ever think that this would be out life?" He asked quietly. The drink slurred his words but she understood them well enough. "When we were kids.. Before your test, your graduation. Before Alexi took you away. Ever think we'd end up here again as adults?"

Alexi. She hadn't heard that name in so damn long. She didn't let the mention of her ex-husband bring any reaction up.

Instead she shrugged, bringing her legs up onto the cushions to curl up on her side on the couch.

"We were always told we'd die long before this age, Maxim. We couldn't think this far ahead."

"Still though." He sighed, a hand running through his hair. It just managed to make it somehow messier. "You did pretty well for yourself. KGB, SHIELD, Avengers.. There isn't a major organisation you didn't end up a part of. And where am I? Still stuck in the Red Room.."

A hiccup ended his quiet ramblings. Natasha put on a sympathetic smile and reached out to place her free hand on his knee, drawing his attention from the floor back to her,

"I got lucky, Max. We both did." He scoffed and tried look away but she slapped his arm gently to keep his attention. "Hey, we did! We survived. How many other kids from our group can say that?"

He quietly considered her words, taking sips from his drink the odd time as the silence stretched on. Natasha let him think it out, leaning back to relax into the couch once more. Finally, when he sighed and flopped back into the cushions himself, he spoke.

"It's alot of pressure, Nat. This job." She didn't speak, she just watched to let him continue. "More than once I've thought of leaving and never looking back. But then who would look after the kids? Who'd make sure what happened to us doesn't to them? I need to make sure they don't up like Alisa.. I need to make sure that there's no grieving big brothers out there seeking revenge over something that I could stop but was too fed up to."

"I told you Max, we could get them out. All of them."

He shook his head, but this wasn't anger like the last time she brought it up. This was some kind of defeat.

"I'm terrified of what they'd do if they found out.."

They. This was her chance.

"Maxim." He looked to her this time, her tone tone serious. "Please tell me who they are. Who'd controlling you? Let me protect you."

"I can't say." He shook his head before allowing it to fall against the cushions.

His whispered just felt so broken to her. But he was truthful drink. There were many times in the past that she got him this bad to get something she needed from his stubborn ass. So if he said he couldn't say, maybe he literally couldn't. It's possible that he didn't even know himself.

"Alright." She sighed. One defeat of the night.

Maxim downed his drink and put the glass on the little coffee table infront of them. Without a word she passed him her own barely sipped from drink and he gratefully accepted.

"You need to get some rest, Max." She said softly. "Big day tomorrow."

"Big day tomorrow." He repeated to the now empty glass in his hand. He didn't seem to make a move though.

Natasha took charge when he didn't and stood to literally drag him to bed.

"Rest. What cell are the tests in right now?" She felt sick referring to them as that. "I'll make sure they're ready for an easy convincing death."

Maxim gave her a strange look. He was wobbling his way to the bed, leaning on Natasha's shoulder to keep from falling completely. He was studying her. His gaze was so intense that she was sure she could feel it right in her soul.

So she shrugged and helped him ease down onto his bed. "I don't want you hurt, Maxim.." She said softly.

Bullshit. If she could hurt him right now she would without thinking twice about it. But it must have worked because his gaze softened.

"And if these girls need to pass to make sure you stay safe then I'll make sure they pass with no mistakes."

A laugh escaped his lips. It started as a quiet chuckle but soon turned into a full and glee filled laugh.

"I knew I could count on you.." He whispered when he finally calmed down, rolling then onto his stomach. "Cell 19 on the third dungeon floor. Clean 'em up for me.."

She smiled and nodded even though his eyes were closed and he couldn't see the action. She put a blanket over his now still form and went to leave.

She'd have to get supplies from her room, get the prisoners out, hope to god no one notices until the morning so she can word to the team. The kids would be fine here until the Avengers came in full force. Natasha genuinely believed that now after what Maxim had said about leaving.

"Vdova..?" She paused at the door, looking back into the room at the soft call of her Widow name. "YA lyublyu tebya.. Always have and always will.. Nothing will change that.."

That threw her a loop. Admissions of love? Here? Now? To her?

Natasha was sure she had gotten him to a while new level of drunk. And yet, she found herself giving a small smile. She hadn't heard him say that since they were kids watching the stars.

"Get some sleep, Max.." She whispered before switching his light off. "We'll talk in the morning."

* * *

For an organisation that had some serious enemies Natasha could safely say their security was shit.

She made it through the base and to the dungeon level without running into any kind of security. Maybe because it was all just living quarters, maybe because they'd all be on the detention levels or research levels, she really didn't know. But she was kicking herself for not trying this sooner to try scope out the place unhindered.

There were two guards at the door to the dungeon cells, four stories below the surface of the camp, two below the detention level, and she had to go to the third one. She briefly wondered if it was the last level, but who knows.

The guards stood from their positions against the wall when she approached, and she stopped just infront of them with a smile.

"Gentlemen." She greeted. They didn't move. She ignored their attempts at serious and hard faces and went on without them needing to ask. "Maxim sent me down to make sure preparations are correct for tomorrow."

That confused the young men, and after a look at one another, thing 1 on the right spoke up.

"We didn't get any word.."

"Literally just sent me." She sighed, running a hand through her hair to let it show he had annoyed her with his comment. "He's asleep now. If you wanna wake him then go right ahead, but I'll still be in cell 19 with you here or not."

They considered this, it looked to her like they were having a silent conversation about weather or not it was wise to go ask the main man.

After a nod at each other thing 2 went to unlock the main door while thing 1 handed her a key from his belt.

"All three of them are in there. We checked for life an hour ago, still breathing. The middle one is a handful so be careful ma'am."

"Thank you gentlemen!" She grinned, patting thing 2's cheek as she passed. A wink his way had him turning a beautiful shade of red that would look well on her sitting-room walls. "I owe you one."

After entering the area it was easy to make her way through. Each level had 7 cells on it, all numbered from 1 up - though she doubted every one was full. Each level had a guard, and she nodded a greeting as she passed them without much worry.

Like Maxim said, 19 was on the third floor down. This floor was different. The other two levels had actual cells, like the classic definition. Steel bars so you could see into the prisoners at a whim. This level was alot more heavy duty.

She hid in the stairway and took a quick look to see what she was facing before pulling a mask over her face and readying herself. The hall way was only lit by candles and it looked like the space was actually carved into the earth itself - not built into floors like the rest of the camp. That'd work to her advantage. Darkness and a surface that didn't echo - perfect for sneaking up on the guard. All the cells had thick steel doors with small hatches at what would be an average eye height. Solitary confinement seemed to run through her mind.

She was willing to bet that number 19 was the only cell here being used right now because the guard on this level was stationed right outside the door and didn't appear to be moving at all.

Easy.

With one last quick glance to make sure she knew where the guard was she moved. Stepping out into the darkness she reached for the small knife in her boot. He noticed an intruder just a second too late because by the time he reached for the weapon on his hip she had thrown the little dagger with expert precision and lodged it directly into his throat.

She ran to catch the mans falling body before it created too much noise - his hands grasping at the dagger as he struggled for breath. Messy, but quiet. That's what she needed so the guards on the higher levels wouldn't be alerted. She needed all of them to stay calm so she could kill them in surprise on her way up and out with the prisoners. She waited until his body grew still and his gasping ceased to lay him carefully on the ground and stand back up to face the door that ended the hallway.

She unlocked the door with the key secured earlier in her travels and slowly opened the door, hand grasping the pistol she held on her hip just incase there was in fact another guard inside.

No attack came, no one screaming a demand of identification, she thought herself in the clear.

The room was pitch dark. Her other senses went into over load though. It was humid and stuffy, deafeningly quiet except the sound of struggling rasped breaths from somewhere in the room. The smell was something else though. Of all the years she's been dealing with disturbing and disgusting situations, this was the one that made her physically gag. It was a festering smell, mixed with the copper taste of blood. Maxim was leaving them to rot to death - who knows for how long.

She reached into the pocket at the breast of her jacket and took out a small battery torch, using it to find the location of the three prisoners.

All of them were along the back wall, facing away from the door. An old tactic used in interrogation - face them away from the room, away from the door, and away from any light source. The prisoners would hear someone but not know when or if they're close enough to strike. She expected nothing less from this place.

They were all on chairs, hands tied behind their backs, and burlap bags over their heads. That's how they'd be brought in for their execution tomorrow morning, so the girls won't be able to see the fear in their eyes.

Well, there would be no tomorrow, but it's how they would be if they were to stay.

Natasha approached slowly, making her steps loud and deliberate so she wouldn't spook them. The only one of the three who seemed to take any notice and move at all was the one in the middle, the one she was warned about, who seemed to be struggling against a heavier amount of binds than his fellow captives since she opened the door.

"Relax.." She said quietly, but sharply. Commanding. And at her voice the middle man did stall in his fight. She set the torch down by the foot of the first chair and started undoing the binds on one of the unresponsive men. "I'm here to get you out.. Trust me.."

The click of a guns safety made her hands stall, and she cursed under her breath the same time she heard the middle hostage do the same. Bright lights filled the room a moment later, coming from above, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

She was made. Fuck she thought she's have more time.

Slowly she stood, reaching up to take off the mask covering her face before turning with her hands in the air towards the entrance.

There were four weapons trained on her, from the four guards she passed on the way down. All semi's, all kill shots, and while she'd happily take them she couldn't risk the three men tied to chairs getting hit.

In front of the four men stood Maxim, tact suit back on, hair back to it's slick style, and a smirk on his face.

"Surprised it took you this long to come down here, Nat.." He said with a shake of his head, and that son of a bitch. He fucking played her.

There was no slur to his words, no wobble to his stance. He was standing sober as a judge with his hands behind his back like he had just woken from a great nights sleep whereas not even an hour ago he was the most drunk she's ever seen him.

Natasha let him pour the drinks. Fucking hell she'd bet anything on the fact that he was just drinking water all night long while she was kind of tipsy and off her game from vodka all night.

Rookie fucking mistake, Romanoff.

"I thought you'd arrive the second I told you about the tests.." He advanced towards her, the lackeys following suit. Two went to grab the men in the chairs, taking the two end ones and dragging them out while the other two removed all weapons from her body. Well, all they could see at least.

"Sorry to disappoint." She spat. "You wanted me down here?"

"Needed." He corrected with a slight shrug, walking past her to place a hand on the last chair in the room. The man began struggling again. She couldn't blame the guy. "You've been useful, but it's run it's course. You've trained up the soldiers brilliantly, you've drawn up training regimes for the kids, you've managed to keep SHIELD off our tails and given this place a new spark of life. But I knew you'd betray us. I can't risk that tomorrow."

Shit. He was right. Natasha did give them everything, taught them enough of what she knew to be useful and with the thought that she'd be here for the long term. Not once did she think that she'd be disposed of, that she'd be drained of knowledge then thrown aside. Maxim wasn't that kind of guy, he wouldn't do that. Or so she thought. Until now.

"So here's how tonight will work, since there's one last end of your deal that needs fulfilling." He continued. He roughly pulled the man in the chair away from the wall and around to face Natasha. His smirk was terrifying. This wasn't Maxim. Maxim probably hasn't been who she remembers for a long time. She was just clinging to an old memory. "The test is going ahead tomorrow, the buyers will be in, three girls will either graduate or die. And now I have 4 test subjects instead of three. So, what to do..?"

"Just spit it out you ass." She growled, hands falling from their position in the air when one of the lackeys produced some rope to tie them. "I don't need a fucking bad guy monologue. This isn't a movie."

"I suppose." Maxim laughed. "You failed on one big part. SHIELD is a worry, that's true. But I have an Avenger here, one of the worlds mightiest heroes. They'll come sooner or later, and you completely failed on giving any information about them. So one of you will give me the information that I need.."

One of you? Who else would know?

Her thought was dropped when she was forced to a sitting position, rope securing her snugly and uncomfortably to the chair. She was facing the other man, and down on this level she could just make out the blood that was staining his purple and black suit.

"They'll be flown to a medical centre three hours from here for attention. The other will be killed tomorrow by one of our marvellous students."

She had to spill secrets to save this guys life. Fucking great. Another person depending on her.

The burlap sack was lifted roughly from the mans head and if it were possible her heart just about sank down through to the centre of the Earth.

"Your choice, Widow." Maxim finished with a grin before walking past her and slamming the door shut.

Natasha paid no attention though, she just stared slack jawed at the idiot across from her.

He shook his head and blinked too rapidly, trying to adjust to the light it seemed. When he did and he looked to her with eyes that were too dead and too pain filled to be the ones she remembered a look of shock passed his bruised features. It cleared quickly though, and a spark came back to those grey eyes a moment later.

"So.. Come here often?" He rasped out with a smirk, but she couldn't accept the joke. Couldn't laugh.

"Clint.."

 _One of you will give me the information I need.._

They were fucked.


End file.
